THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  NIGHT  OF  WEEPING; 


WORDS  FOR  THE  SUFFERING  FAMILY  OF  GOD 


"  Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the 
morning." — PSA.  xxx.  5. 

"We  must  through  much,,  tribulation  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  God." — ACTS  xiv.  23. 


BY  THE 

REV.    HORATIUS   BONAR. 


FROM   THE   THIRD  LONDON   EDITION. 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT    CARTER   &   BROTHERS, 

No.    285    BROADWAY. 

1852. 


• 


PREFACE. 


Iv  to  MI  ««arr  matter  to  write  a  book  for  the  family  of  God. 
Yet  it  v  3U  tV«i  that  these  thoughts  on  chastisement  are 
written. 

They  may  be  found  not  unsuitable  for  the  younger  brethren 
of  the  man  of  sorrows.  For  the  way  is  rough,  and  the  desert- 
blast  is  keen.  Who  of  them  can  say  aught  regarding  their 
prospects  here,  save  that  tribulation  awaiteth  them  in  every 
place  as  they  pass  along.  This  they  must  know  and  prepare 
for,  grasping  more  firmly  at  every  step  the  gracious  hand  that 
is  leading  them  on  to  the  kingdom,  and  looking  up  for  gui- 
dance to  the  loving  eye  that  rests  over  them  with  fondest 
vigilance,  ever  bright  and  ever  iender,  whether  in  shadow  or 
in  sunshine,  whether  amid  the  crowds  of  busy  life,  or  in  the 
solitude  of  the  lonely  way. 

It  is,  then,  to  the  members  of  this  family  that  this  little 
volume  is  offered.  They  may  find  in  it  something  which 
may  not  merely  interest  them;  but  may  also  meet  their  case; 
something  too  in  which,  perhaps,  they  may  recognise  not  the 
voice  of  a  stranger,  but  of  a  brother  ;  "a  companion  in  tribu- 
lation and  in  the  kingdom  and  patience  of  Jesus  Christ."* 
For  the  tones  of  the  suffering  brotherhood  on  earth  have 
something  in  them  too  peculiar  not  to  be  instinctively  recog- 
ni/.cil.  It  is  said  of  Arabian  airs  that  they  are  all  plaintive. 
They  all  touch  some  melancholy  chord,  as  if  the  wail  of  the 
desert-echo  were  the  key-note  of  each  melody.  It  is  in  some 
measure  thus  with  the  children  of  the  kingdom, — while  so- 
journers  in  this  wilderness  of  earth.  "  Their  voice  is  ever 
soft,  gentle,  and  low."  Sorrow  has  smoothed  away  its  harsh- 
ness, and  breathed  gentler  feeling  into  its  tones.  True,  it  is 
the  voice  of  gladness,  for  it  is  the  voice  of  the  forgiven;  but 
still  it  is  sorrowing  gladness,  calm  and  serious  joy.  Thoir 
peculiar  lot  as  followers  of  a  hated  Lord,  and  their  peculiar 
circumstances,  as  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  doomed  and  dy- 

*  Rev  i.  9 


IV  PREFACE. 

ing  world,  have  wrought  into  their  spirit  a  deep,  though  se- 
rene, solemnity  of  expression,  alike  in  look  and  voice.  Hence, 
the  instinctive  recognition  among  the  brotherhood,  not  only 
of  the  family  look,  but  of  the  family  tones. 

It  is  of  family  concerns  that  we  speak,  and  in  these  each 
member  has  a  common  interest.  The  "  household  of  faith" 
has  many  concerns,  and  not  the  least  of  these  are  its  sorrows. 
These  are  the  lot  of  all;  and  there  is  no  member  of  the  house- 
hold but  has  his  share  in  these,  either  in  personal  suffering 
or  in  helping  to  bear  the  burden  of  others. 

What  is  now  written  may  be  found  suitable  to  all,  whether 
actually  under  chastisement  or  not.  It  is.  however,  pre- 
sented specially  to  those  who  are  "  in  heaviness  through 
manifold  temptations,"  suffering  the  rebuke  of  the  Lord,  pass- 
ing through  fire  and  through  water,  with  "affliction  laid 
upon  their  loins."*  The  bruised  reed  must  not  be  broken  ,• 
the  smoking  flax  must  not  be  quenched.  The  hands  which 
hang  down  must  be  lifted  up,  and  the  feeble  knees  confirmed ; 
that  which  is  lame  must  not  be  turned  out  of  the  way,  but 
rather  healed.t 

Our  desire  is  to  minister  to  the  saints  in  the  consolation 
and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  We  would  seek  to  bear  their 
burdens,  to  bind  up  their  wounds,  and  to  dry  up  at  least  some 
out  of  their  many  tears.  To  comfort  those  that  mourn  is  not 
only  to  act  in  obedience  to  the  command,  "bear  ye  one  anoth- 
er's burdens,  and  so  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ ;"  it  is  to  walk 
by  the  side  of  Jesus  in  his  visits  of  mercy  to  his  suffering 
saints  on  earth;  nay,  it  is  to  be  fellow-workers  with  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  the  Church's  Comforter  in  all  her  tribulations  and 
distresses. 

Of  these  things  the  world  knows  little.  Its  sympathies  are 
not  with  the  saints,  either  in  their  sorrow  or  their  joy.  Fam- 
ily concerns,  and  especially  family  griefs,  are  not  for  strangers 
to  intermeddle  with.  They  are  things  too  high  for  them. 
And  how  shall  they  understand  them  so  long  as  they  remain 
without  1  They  must  first  come  in,  and  take  their  place 
among  the  children,  beneath  the  paternal  roof.  And  what 
should  stay  them!  The  gate  stands  open  day  and  night. 
They  would  be  welcomed  in  with  the  kindliest  greetings  of 
love. 

But  though  standing  afar  off  from  the  saints,  and  unable  to 
mingle  its  sympathies  with  theirs,  still  the  world  has  sorrows 
of  its  own,  deep  and  many.  To  grieve,  and  yet  have  no 
comforter ;  to  be  wounded,  and  yet  have  no  healer ;  to  be 

'  Psa.  bcvi.  11,  12.  t  Heb.  xii.  12 


PREFACE.  y 

weary,  and  yet  know  no  resting-place;  this  is  tie  world's 
hard  lot. 

Yet  it  is  a  self-chosen  one.  God  did  not  choose  it  for 
them.  They  chose  it  for  themselves.  God  invites,  nay, 
pleads  hard  with  them  to  quit  it,  yet  they  will  not.  Wretched 
as  it  is,  they  yet  prefer  it  to  the  friendship  of  him,  with  whom 
their  heart  is  at  enmity,  and  whose  presence  is  to  them  all 

§loom  and  terror.  Yet  he  continues  to  entreat  them.  He 
oes  not  let  them  alone.  The  "  many  sorrows"  which  com- 
pass them  about  are  his  many  messages  of  grace,  his  un- 
wearied knockings  at  their  fast-closed  door.  He  writes  "  van- 
ity" upon  the  creature,  "  weariness  and  vexation"  upon 
earth's  best  delights,  that  men  may  not  place  their  confidence 
in  these.  Most  mercifully  does  he  hedge  them  about  with 
disappointment  of  every  form,  that  they  may  lift  their  eyes 
above  this  earth,  and  beyond  these  heavens,  to  the  enduring 
blessedness  that  is  at  his  right  hand  for  ever.  With  what 
kindness,  though  with  seeming  severity,  does  he  mar  their 
best  friendships,  that  he  may  attract  them  to  the  communion 
of  his  own  far  better  and  everlasting  companionship  1  With 
what  compassion  does  he  break  in  upon  their  misguided  at- 
tachments, that  he  may  draw  them  away  from  earth,  and  bind 
them  to  himself  by  the  more  blessed  ties  of  his  own  far  sweeter 
love  1  With  what  tenderness  does  he  tear  asunder  the  bonds 
of  brotherhood  and  kindred,  that  he  may  unite  them  to  him- 
self in  far  dearer  and  eternal  relationship  ?  WTith  what 
mercy  does  he  overthrow  their  prospects  of  worldly  wealth, 
and  bring  down  their  hopes  of  earthly  power  and  greatness, 
that  he  may  give  them  the  heavenly  treasure,  and  make  them 
a  "  royal  priesthood"  to  himself  in  the  glorious  kingdom  of 
his  Son.  With  what  love  does  he  ruin  their  reputation 
among  men,  breaking  in  pieces  their  good  name  which  was 
their  idol,  that  he  may  show  them  the  vanity  of  human 
praise,  leading  them  to  desire  the  honor  that  cometh  from 
God,  to  know  that  in  his  favor  is  life,  and  that  the  light  of 
his  countenance  is  the  very  sunshine  of  heaven. 

Oh,  that  a  weary,  broken-hearted  world  would  learn  these 
lessons  of  grace !  Oh,  that  they  would  taste  and  see  that  God 
is  good.  Let  them  but  come  home  to  him.  He  will  not 
mock  them  with  shadows,  nor  feed  them  upon  husks.  He 
will  satisfy  their  craving  souls ;  he  will  turn  their  midnight 
into  noon ;  he  will  give  them  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy 
for  mourning,  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heavi- 
ness, that  they  may  be  called  trees  of  righteousness,  the 
planting  of  the  Lord. 


VI  PREFACE. 

Let  the  world,  however,  regard  God's  dealings  with  them 
as  they  may :  let  not  "  the  children"  despise  the  chastening 
of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  they  are  rebuked  of  him.  They 
at  least  should  know  the  meaning  of  his  actings  towards 
them,  for  they  know  HIMSELF.  The  world  may  misunder 
stand  his  rebukes,  or  put  an  unkind  construction  upon  them; 
they  cannot,  for  they  know  that  "  God  is  love." 

The  thoughts  that  follow  are  designed  to  assist  them  in  in- 
terpreting God's  ways ;  not  merely  in  finding  comfort  under 
trial,  but  in  drawing  profit  from  it.  I  have  at  least  attempted 
to  contribute  something  towards  this  end.  I  have  done  what 
I  could,  rather  than  what  I  would.  But  it  may  be  that  the 
Head  of  the  family  will  own  it,  and  send  it  with  his  own 
blessing  to  the  scattered  members  near  and  far.  He  knows 
that  they  need  some  such  words  in  season ;  and  that,  if 
thickening  signs  deceive  not,  they  will  ere  long  need  them 
more.  In  such  a  case  even  this  little  volume  may  be  helpful. 

It  is  written  in  much  weakness,  and  with  many  sins  to 
mar  it :  amid  what  trials  it  is  of  little  moment  for  a  stranger 
to  learn.  It  is  written  by  one  who  is  seeding  himself  to 
profit  by  trial,  and  trembles  lest  it  should  pass  by  as  the  wind 
over  the  rock,  leaving  it  as  hard  as  ever;  by  one  who  would 
fain  in  every  sorrow  draw  near  to  God,  that  he  may  know 
Him  more,  and  who  is  not  unwilling  to  confess  that  as  yet 
lie  knows  but  little. 

fclto,  Dec.  19,  1843. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAOB 

The  Family        ....  .9 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Family  Life  ...  .23 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Family  Badge         ...  .33 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Family  Discipline   .  .  .  .  .44 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Family  Rods  ....  65 

CHAPTER  VL 
The  Types         ....  .  .      79 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Proving       ....  .86 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Rebuking    .  .  .  .  .  .97 


V1U  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PAOB 

The  Purifying  .  .  .  .  .107 

CHAPTER  X. 
Ths  Arousing     .  .  .  •  .119 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Solemnizing  .  .  .  •  .129 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Warning      .  .  .  .  •  .139 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Recollections  .  •  •  •  •    154 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Consolation  .  .  .  •  .162 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Eternal  Results       .  .  .  •  .175 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    FAMILY. 

IT  was  God's  purpose  from  the  beginning, 
not  merely  to  redeem  for  Himself  a  people  out 
of  a  world  of  sinners,  but  to  bring  that  people 
into  a  peculiar  relationship  to  Himself.  It 
was  his  purpose  to  draw  them  nearer  to  Him- 
self than  any  other  order  of  his  creatures,  and 
to  establish  a  link  between  them  and  Godhead 
of  the  closest  and  most  peculiar  kind. 

To  carry  out  this  purpose,  was  the  WORD 
made  flesh.  "  He  took  not  on  him  the  nature 
of  angels,  but  he  took  on  him  the  seed  of  Abra- 
ham."* "Forasmuch  as  the  children  were 
partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  himself  like- 
wise took  part  of  the  same."t 

Thus  a  new  relationship  was  established, 
such  as  till  then,  could  never  have  been  con- 
ceived of,  as  even  possible.  The  tie  of  creation, 
though  not  dissolved,  was  now  to  be  lost  in  the 
closer,  dearer  tie  of  kindred.  "  Both  He  who 
sanctifieth,  and  they  who  are  sanctified,  are  all 

*  Heb.  ii.  16.  t  Heb.  ii.  14. 


10  "'"W       p.\l"TTV. 

of  one ;  for  which  cause  he  is  not  ashamed  to 
call  them  brethren."*  He  calls  them  breth- 
ren, and  they  call  him  brother.  Being  "  made 
of  a  woman,"  he  has  become  partaker  of  our 
lowly  humanity,  so  as  to  be  bone  of  our  bone, 
and  flesh  of  our  flesh  ;  and  we  being  "  born  of 
God,"  are  made  partakers  of  the  Divine  nature, 
becoming  "  members  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh  and 
of  his  bones.5'  Thus  the  saints  are  the  nearest 
kinsmen  of  the  Son  of  God ;  and  if  of  the  Son, 
then  of  the  Father  also,  as  he  hath  said,  "  I 
and  my  Father  are  one :"  "  believest  thou  not 
that  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  me." 
It  is  thus  that  the  family  relationship  is 
formed,  and  God's  original  design  carried  out. 
For  thus  it  is  written,  "  As  many  as  received 
him,  to  them  gave  he  power,  (or  the  right)  to 
become  the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that  be- 
lieve on  his  name :  which  were  born  not  of 
blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the 
will  of  man,  but  of  God."t  And  again,  "  Be- 
hold what  manner  of  love  the  Father  hath  be- 
stowed upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called  the 
sons  of  God."f  We  are  elevated  to  creation's 
highest  level.  We  are  brought  into  the  inner 
circle  of  the  Father's  love,— nearer  his  throne, 
*  Heb.  ii.  II  t  John  i.  12,  13.  t  1  John  iii.  1. 


THE    FAMILY.  11 

nearer  his  heart  than  angels,  for  we  are  the  body 
of  Christ,  and  members  in  particular, — "the 
fulness  of  him  that  filleth  all  in  all." 

Out  of  this  new  link  there  springs  the  family 
bond  between  us  and  the  God  and  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  "his  Father  and  our 
Father,  his  God  and  our  God."  And  it  is  espe- 
cially in  this  name  of  family  that  God  delights. 
He  has  many  names  for  his  redeemed.  They 
are  his  chosen  ones,  Ais  people,  his  flock,  his 
heritage.  But  it  is,  as  his  family,  that  he 
speaks  of  them  oftenest,  and  it  is,  as  such,  that 
that  he  bends  over  them  so  fondly,  as  over  his 
first-born, — the  children  of  his  heart,  and  the 
desire  of  his  eyes. 

But  it  is  needful  that  we  inquire  farther  con- 
cerning this  family,  and  learn  from  God's  own 
account  of  them,  who  and  what  they  are.  By 
nature  they  are  children  of  wrath,  even  as 
others.  And  thus  far,  there  is  no  original  dif- 
ference between  them  and  the  world.  But 
they  are  the  eternally  chosen  of  the  Father, 
"  Chosen  in  Christ  before  the  foundation  of  the 
world."*  This  is  their  true  ancestry,  and  this  is 
their  chiefest  glory.  "  They  are  predestinated  to 
the  adoption  of  children  by  Jesus  Christ  to  him- 
*  Eph.  i.  4. 


12  THE   FAMILY. 

self,  according  to  the  good  pleasure  of  his  will."* 
They  are  quickened  together  with  Christ,  from 
being  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  and  raised 
up  by  the  exceeding  greatness  of  God's  power, 
the  same  mighty  power  by  which  he  wrought 
in  Christ  when  he  raised  him  from  the  dead.t 
They  are  saved  by  grace  through  faith,  and 
that  not  of  themselves,  it  is  the  gift  of  God.J 
They  are  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his 
Son.§  They  are  delivered  from  a  present  evil 
world  according  to  the  will  of  God  their  Father.  II 
They  are  washed  in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and 
justified  by  faith  in  his  name.  They  are  re- 
deemed from  their  vain  conversation,  not  with 
corruptible  things,  as  silver  and  gold,  but  with 
the  precious  blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a  lamb  with- 
out blemish  and  without  spot :  who  verily  was 
fore-ordained  before  the  foundation  of  the  world, 
but  was  manifest  in  these  last  times  for  them. TT 
They  are  made  heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs 
with  Jesus  Christ ;  kings  and  priests  unto  God, 
who  are  to  reign  with  Christ  for  ever  over 
a  redeemed  and  restored  creation.  Such  is  the 
family.  Surely  they  are  high-born.  Their 
ancestry  is  from  eternity.  Their  descent  is 

*  Eph.  i.  5.  t  Eph.  i.  19.  t  Eph.  ii.  8. 

§  Rom.  v.  10.         II  Gal.  i.  4.  IT  1  Pet.  i.  9. 


THE   FAMILY.  13 

from  the  King  of  kings.  They  are  of  the 
blood  royal  of  heaven.  And  though  their 
present  condition  be  a  lowly  one,  their  prospects 
are  the  brightest  that  hope  ever  painted ;  bright- 
er than  what  eye  hath  seen,  or  ear  hath  heard. 
It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  they  shall  be  ;  but 
they  know  that  when  he  shall  appear,  they 
shall  be  like  him,  for  they  shall  see  him  as  he  is* 
But  apart  from  these  descriptions  which 
encircle  the  saved  family  with  such  peculiar 
glory  even  here,  their  simple  condition  of  being 
God's  family  calls  for  a  little  farther  notice. 
For  it  is  not  outward  circumstances  that  form, 
or  give  interest  to,  a  home  or  a  family  ;  it  is  the 
living  pulse  of  affection  that  is  beating  there. 
Neither  earthly  pomp,  nor  earthly  poverty,  can 
materially  alter  the  real  inward  character  of 
that  little  circle  of  human  hearts  which  man 
calls  a  family.  Bright  skies  and  sunshine  can- 
not weaken  or  sever  the  bond ;  neither  can  they 
allure  them  away  from  rejoicing  in  each  other's 
joy  and  love.  Dark  days  ind  tempests  cannot 
sunder  them  ;  they  do  but  make  them  gather 
more  closely  together,  as  being  all  in  all  to  each 
other  then.  So  with  the  family  of  the  redeemed, 
It  is  not  their  outward  circumstances  or  pros* 

*  1  John  iii.  & 
2 


14  THE    FAMILY. 

pects  that  give  them  the  name  ;  it  is  something 
far  tenderer  and  deeper  than  these.  It  is  the 
pulse  of  heavenly  affection,  throbbing  through 
every  member,  and  coming  down  from  the  in- 
finite neart  above ;  it  is  this  that  makes  them 
what  they  are.  It  is  under  this  aspect  that 
God  delights  to  look  upon  them.  It  is  for  this 
reason,  especially,  that  he  has  given  to  them 
the  name  they  bear. 

The  word  family  is  a  sacred  one,  even 
among  the  children  of  the  world.  There  is  a 
hallowed  tenderness  about  it,  which  few,  save 
the  wickedest,  do  not  in  some  measure  feeL 
One  of  their  own  poets  has  thus  expressed  the 
feeling : 

Beneath  the  foulest  mother's  curse 

No  living  thing  can  thrive ; 
A  mother  is  a  mother  still, 

The  holiest  thing  alive. 

I  by  no  means  accord  with  the  sentiment 
contained  in  these  words  ;  the  language  is  too 
strong.  Still  it  shows  the  world's  feeling  as  to 
the  strength  and  sacredness  of  the  family  bond. 
And  there  is  much  of  truth  contained,  or  at 
least  implied  in  it.  No  other  earthly  circle  can 
be  compared  with  that  of  the  family.  It  com- 
prises all  that  a  human  heart  most  values  and 
delights  in.  It  is  the  centre  where  all  human 


THE    FAMILY.  15 

affections  meet  and  entwine,  the  vessel  into 
which  they  all  pour  themselves  with  such  joy- 
ous freedom.  There  is  no  one  word  which 
contains  in  it  so  many  endearing  associations 
and  precious  remembrances,  hid  in  the  heart 
like  gold.  It  appeals  at  once  to  the  very  centre 
of  man's  being, — his  "  heart  of  hearts."  All 
that  is  sweet,  soothing,  tender,  and  true,  is 
wrapt  up  in  that  one  name.  It  speaks  not  of 
one  circle  or  one  bond ;  but  of  many  circles  and 
many  bonds, — all  of  them  near  the  heart. 
The  family  home,  the  family  hearth,  the  family 
table,  family  habits,  family  voices,  family  to- 
kens, family  salutations,  family  melodies, 
family  joys  and  sorrows ;  what  a  mine  of  re- 
collections lies  under  that  one  word  !  Take 
these  away,  and  earth  becomes  a  mere  church- 
yard of  crumbling  bones  ;  and  man  as  so  many 
grains  of  loosened  sand,  or  at  best,  but  as  the 
fragments  of  a  torn  flower,  which  the  winds 
are  scattering  abroad. 

All  that  is  beautiful  in  human  relationship, 
or  tender  in  human  affection,  or  gentle  in  hu- 
man intercourse; — all  that  is  loveable  and 
precious  in  the  movements  of  a  human  heart 
from  its  lowest  depth  to  its  uppermost  surface, 
all  these  are  wrapt  up  in  the  one  name  of 


16  THE   FAMILY. 

family.  For  close-knit  bonds,  for  stedfasl 
faithfulness  in  love,  for  depth  of  sympathy,  for 
endurance  in  trial  and  danger — where  shall  we 
find  any  thing  that  can  be  compared  to  the 
story  of  earth's  family  circles  ?  Conjugal  love, 
parental  love,  filial  love,  brotherly  love,  sisterly 
love, — all  are  here.  The  many  streams  of 
human  affection  empty  themselves  into  it,  or 
flow  out  of  it  for  the  fertility  and  gladness  of 
the  earth. 

We  need  not  wonder,  then,  that  this  name 
should  be  chosen  as  one  of  the  Church's  pecu- 
liar names.  God  delights  in  it  as  the  name  by 
which  his  company  of  chosen  ones  is  to  be 
specially  called.  THE  FAMILY  OF  GOD — that 
is  the  Church's  name.  As  such  he  dwells  in 
the  midst  of  it,  cares  for  it,  and  watches  over 
it.  His  dealings  with  it  are  those  of  a  father 
— fond  yet  strict — loving  yet  wise — sitting 
amongst  his  children,  having  his  eye  on  each, 
and  ordering  in  his  gracious  wisdom  all  the 
concerns  of  his  household. 

His  heart  is  there  !  Yes,  it  is  in  his  church 
that  God's  heart  may  be  said  specially  to  be. 
There  it  unfolds  itself  in  a  way,  such  as  it  can 
do  amid  no  other  order  of  his  creatures.  There 
it  shows  itself  in  all  its  manifold  fulness,  such 


THE   FAMILY.  17 

as  it  has  no  scope  for  elsewhere.  It  is  in  the 
family  alone  that  the  one  thing  we  call  affec- 
tion or  love,  is  divided  and  spread  out,  like  a 
sunbeam  into  the  rainbow's  seven-fold  hues, 
there  to  display  itself  in  all  the  rich  tints  of 
hidden  beauty.  So  it  is  in  the  Church  alone, 
that  the  love  of  God  is  fully  seen,  not  merely 
in  all  its  intensity,  but  in  all  its  varied  riches. 
All  kinds  of  love  are  unfolded  there.  There  is 
room  for  such  wide  variety  of  affection,  both 
between  the  Head  and  the  members,  and  be- 
tween the  members  one  with  the  other,  that  it 
seems  as  if  there  had  been  given  new  powers 
of  loving,  as  well  as  new  objects  to  love. 

No  doubt  there  are  other  names  for  the 
saints  besides  this  one.  But  none  of  them  ex- 
presses what  this  is  intended  to  do.  God  calls 
them  his  flock,  which  implies  tender  watchful- 
ness on  his  part  and  dependent  helplessness  on 
theirs.  He  calls  them  a  vine,  denoting  their 
oneness,  as  well  as  the  unceasing  nourishment 
that  is  ever  circulating  through  them  from  the 
parent  stern.  He  calls  them  a  temple,  signi- 
fying their  compactness  of  structuie,  symmetry 
of  design,  beauty  of  form,  and  above  all,  fitness 
for  the  inhabitation  and  worship  of  Jehovah. 
He  calls  them  a  body,  to  set  forth,  not  merely 
2* 


18  THE   FAMILY. 

their  comely  proportions,  but  their  marvellous 
unity  and  conscious  vitality  of  being,  as  well 
as  the  closeness  of  the  binding  tie,  and  their 
various  serviceableness  to  each  other.  He 
calls  them  a  city,  intimating  their  happy  com- 
munity of  privileges  and  rights  and  well  or- 
dered government;  the  security,  peace,  abun- 
dance which  they  enjoy ;  the  comforts  of 
neighborhood  with  all  its  cheerful  greetings 
and  mutual  offices  of  love.  He  calls  them  a 
kingdom,  as  expressive  of  their  high  and 
honorable  estate,  of  the  royalty,  the  glory,  the 
dominion,  of  which  they  have  been  made  the 
heirs. 

But  various  and  expressive  as  are  these 
well-known  names,  they  are  still  imperfect. 
They  describe  as  it  were  only  the  outer  circles, 
each  name  a  circle  of  its  own.  But  the  inner 
circle — the  inner  region  of  our  spiritual  being 
they  do  not  touch  upon.  It  is  that  well-known 
word,  that  magic  name,  a.  family,  which  alone 
^  can  express  all  that  God  sees  of  what  is  comely 
and  tender,  loving  and  loveable  in  the  Church 
of  Christ,  into  which  he  is  pouring  his  love, 
through  which  he  delights  to  see  that  love 
circulate  unhindered,  and  out  of  which  he  ex- 
pects tha  t  love  to  flow  abroad. 


THE  FAMILY.  19 

There  is  one  thing  that  strikes  us  much 
concerning  this  family.  It  is  the  way  in  which 
Christ  speaks  of  the  special  interest  which  he 
takes  in  each  member.  "Those  that  thou 
gavest  me  I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them  is 
lost."*  How  like  the  family  feeling !  Each 
name,  each  face  is  known ;  known  so  fami- 
liarly that  the  least  and  youngest  would  at 
once  be  missed.  The  place  where  each  sits, 
the  room  which  each  occupies,  the  time  of 
their  going  out  and  coming  in ;  their  looks, 
their  habits,  their  tones,  are  so  thoroughly 
known,  that  the  moment  any  one  is  absent  he 
is  missed.  And  then  no  other  can  supply  his 
place.  His  absence  makes  a  blank  which 
none  but  himself  can  fill.  An  acquaintance  or 
fellow-townsman  may  drop  away  and  never  be 
missed.  His  place  is  easily  filled  up  by  another. 
Not  so  with  a  member  of  the  family.  A  break 
there  is  a  dismal  blank  :  and  when  death  has 
carried  off  a  brother,  a  sister,  or  a  parent,  who, 
or  what,  can  ever  fill  their  room  ?  When  one 
flower  fades,  another  springs  up,  fresher  per- 
haps and  more  fragrant — and  we  forget  the 
faded  one.  But  the  withered  family  flower 
can  have  no  successor  :  it  dies,  and  there  is  a 
*  John  xvii.  12. 


20  THE    FAMILY. 

blank  for  ever.  Might  it  not  be  with  some 
such  feeling  that  Jesus  looked  round  upon  his 
vast  household  circle,  and,  while  surveying 
each  well-known  face,  gave  thanks  that  not 
one  was  lost :  as  if  he  could  not  have  spared 
so  much  as  one  of  those  whom  the  Father  had 
given  him. 

Oh,  the  deep  interest  which  Jesus  takes  in 
each  !  Truly  it  is  a  personal  and  peculiar  at- 
tachment to  each  member.  Do  we  not  lose 
much  by  forgetting  this?  Even  in  human 
things  we  are  apt  to  overlook  this.  We  call 
the  feeling  which  the  Father  entertains  to 
each  of  his  children,  love  ;  and  well  we  call  it 
so  ;  but  this  is  not  all.  There  is  a  difference 
in  the  love  he  bears  to  his  eldest  and  his 
youngest  born ;  a  difference  in  the  case  of 
each,  called  forth  by  the  peculiar  character  of 
each.  It  is  this  minute  and  special  love  which 
is  so  precious.  Were  it  not  for  this,  we  should 
feel  as  if  we  had  only  part  of  our  Father's 
heart,  as  if  we  had  not  all  that  of  right  belongs 
to  us.  But,  realizing  this,  we  feel  as  if  we  had 
his  whole  heart,  and  yet  our  having  die  whole 
did  not  rob  our  brothers  and  sisters  of  any.  It 
is  with  a  family  as  with  the  sun  in  the  firma- 
ment. It  is  the  property  of  all,  and  yet  each 


THE   FAMILY.  21 

has  the  whole  of  it.  Even  so  with  Jehovah 
our  heavenly  Father;  even  so  with  Jesus  our 
elder  brother.  His  is  a  special,  personal,  pe- 
culiar love,  just  as  if  he  loved  no  other,  but  had 
his  whole  heart  to  spare  for  us.  His  is  a 
minute  and  watchful  care,  bending  over  each, 
day  and  night,  as  if  he  had  no  other  to  care 
for.  How  sweet  to  think  that  each  of  us  is  the 
special  object  of  such  personal  attachment,  the 
peculiar  object  of  such  unwearied  vigilance  ! 
What  manner  of  love  is  this  !  Now  we  believe 
and  are  sure  that  we  shall  be  fully  cared  for, 
and  not  one  want  or  sorrow  overlooked.  Now 
we  know  that  "  all  things  shall  work  together 
for  our  good,"  and  that  the  end  of  everything 
which  befalls  us  here  shall  be  light  and  glory 
for  ever  !  "  I  know  the  thoughts  that  I  think 
towards  you,  saith  the  Lord,  thoughts  of  peace 
and  not  of  evil,  to  give  you  an  expected  end."* 
"As  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth,  so  will 
I  comfort  you."t  "  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his 
children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear 


It  is  sweet  to  realize  the  common  love  flow- 
ing out  of  the  Father's  bosom  to  the  whole 
happy  household  of  his  saved  ones  ;  but  it  is 

*  Jer.  xxii.  11.  t  Is.  Ixvi.  13.  *  Ps.  ciii.  13. 


22  THE    FAMILY. 

no  less  sweet,  specially  in  the  day  of  trial,  to 
dwell  upon  the  personal  love  he  bears  so  pecu- 
liarly to  each.  It  is  blessed  to  identify  our- 
selves with  such  a  family  who  are  all  joying 
in  the  sunshine  of  paternal  love  ;  but  it  is  as 
blessed  at  times  to  isolate  oneself  and  realize 
the  individual  love  which  is  our  own  peculiar 
heritage.  Thus  felt  the  Bride  when  she  said, 
"  let  him  kiss  me  with  the  kisses  of  his  mouth, 
for  thy  love  is  better  than  wine."*  "  I  am  my 
beloved's,  and  my  beloved  is  mine."t 

It  was  when  first  the  Holy  Spirit  opened  our 
ears  to  listen  to  the  tale  of  love  which  the 
Gospel  brought  to  us,  that  we  sought  our  Fa- 
ther's house,  and  rested  not  till  we  had  found 
ourselves  in  his  embrace.  It  was  then  when 
first  we  received  "  the  gift  of  God,"  and  under- 
stood the  love  which  that  gift  declared,  that  we 
took  our  place  in  the  family  circle,  tasting  the 
plenty  of  our  Father's  table,  and  enjoying  the 
sweetness  of  our  Father's  smile.  And  even  as 
we  entered  in,  so  are  we  to  abide  for  ever ;  "  root- 
ed and  grounded  in  love,"  realizing  the  words 
of  Jesus,  "  as  the  Father  hath  loved  me,  so  have 
I  loved  you :  CONTINUE  YE  IN  MY  LOVE."£ 

*  Song  of  Solomon,  i.  2.        t  Song  of  Solomon,  vi.  8. 
JJobn  xv.  9. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE     FAMILY     LIFE. 

THEY  live  by  faith.  Thus  they  began,  and 
thus  they  are  to  end.  "  We  walk  by  faith  and 
not  by  sight."  Their  whole  life  is  a  life  of 
faith.  Their  daily  actings  are  all  of  faith. 
This  forms  one  of  the  main  elements  of  their 
character.  It  marks  them  out  as  a  peculiar 
people.  None  live  as  they  do. 

Their  faith  is  to  them  "the  substance  of 
things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen."  It  is  a  sort  of  substitute  for  sight  and 
possession.  It  so  brings  them  into  contact 
with  the  unseen  world,  that  they  feel  as  if 
they  were  already  conversant  with,  and  living 
amongst,  the  things  unseen.  It  makes  the 
future,  the  distant,  the  impalpable,  appear  as 
the  present,  the  near,  the  real.  It  removes  all 
intervening  time  :  it  annihilates  all  interposing 
space ;  it  transplants  the  soul  at  once  into  the 
world  above.  That  which  we  know  is  to 
be  hereafter,  is  felt  as  if  already  in  being. 
Hence  the  coming  of  the  Lord  is  always 


24  THE   FAMILY   LIFE. 

spoken  of  as  at  hand.  Nay,  more  than  this, 
the  saints  are  represented  as  "  having  their 
conversation  in  heaven ;"  as  being  already 
"  seated  with  Christ  in  heavenly  places,"*  as 
"  having  come  to  Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the 
city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to 
the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first- 
born who  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God 
the  judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect."!  The  things  amid  which  they 
are  to  move  hereafter  are  so  realized  by  faith 
as  to  appear  the  things  amid  which  they  are 
at  present  moving.  They  sit  in  "heavenly 
places"  and  look  down  upon  the  earth,  with 
all  its  clouds  and  storms,  as  lying  immeasura- 
bly far  beneath  their  feet.  And  what  is  a 
"present  evil  world"  to  those  who  are  already 
above  ah1  its  vicissitudes  and  breathing  a  purer 
atmosphere  ? 

Such  is  the  power  of  faith.  It  throws  back 
into  the  far  distance  the  things  of  earth,  the 
things  that  men  call  near  and  real;  and  it 
brings  forward  into  vital  contact  with  the  soul 
the  things  which  men  call  invisible  and  dis- 
tant. It  discloses  to  us  the  heavenly  man- 
*  Eph.  ii.  6.  t  Heb.  xii.  22. 


THE    FAMILY    LIFE.  25 

aions,  their  passing  splendor,  their  glorious 
purity,  their  blessed  peace.  It  shows  us  the 
happy  courts,  the  harmonious  company,  the 
adoring  multitudes.  It  opens  our  ears  also,  so 
that  when  beholding  these  great  sights  we 
seem  to  hear  the  heavenly  melody,  and  to 
catch  the  very  words  of  the  new  song  they 
sing,  "  Thou  art  worthy,  for  thou  wast  slain, 
and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy  blood  out 
of  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people,  and 
nation,  and  hast  made  us  unto  our  God,  kings 
and  priests,  and  we  shall  reign  on  the  earth."* 
It  moreover  points  our  eye  forward  to  what  is 
yet  to  come ;  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  the 
judgment  of  the  great  day,  the  restitution  of 
all  things,  the  kingdom  that  cannot  be  moved, 
the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder 
and  maker  is  God.  While  thus  it  gives  to 
things  invisible  a  body  and  a  form  which  be- 
fore they  possessed  riot  in  our  eyes ;  on  the 
other  hand  it  divests  things  visible  of  that 
semblance  of  excellence  and  reality  with 
which  they  were  formerly  clothed.  It  strips 
the  world  of  its  false  but  bewildering  glow,  and 
enables  us  to  penetrate  the  thin  disguise  that 
hides  its  poverty  and  meanness.  It  not  only 
*  Rev,  v.  9. 


26  THE   FAMILY   LIFE. 

sweeps  away  the  cloud  which  hung  above  us, 
obstructing1  our  view  of  heavenly  excellence  ; 
but  it  places  that  cloud  beneath  us,  to  coun- 
teract the  fallacious  brightness  and  unreal 
beauty  which  the  world  has  thrown  over  itself 
to  mask  its  inward  defo'-mity. 

Thus  it  is  that  faith  enables  us  to  realize 
our  true  position  of  pilgrims  and  strangers  upon 
earth,  looking  for  the  city  which  hath  founda- 
ions,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.  It  is 
into  this  that  we  are  introduced  by  faith  at  our 
conversion.  For  what  is  our  conversion,  but  a 
turning  our  back  upon  the  world,  and  bidding 
farewell  to  all  that  the  heart  had  hitherto  been 
entwined  around  1  It  is  then  that  like  Abra- 
ham we  forsake  all,  and  go  out  not  knowing 
whither.  Old  ties  are  broken,  though  some- 
times hard  to  sever.  New  ones  are  formed, 
though  not  of  earth.  We  begin  to  look  around 
us,  and  find  all  things  new.  We  feel  that  we 
are  strangers  ;  strangers  in  that  very  spot  where 
we  have  been  so  long  at  home.  But  this  is 
our  joy.  We  have  left  our  father's  house,  but 
we  are  hastening  on  to  a  more  enduring  home. 
We  have  taken  leave  of  the  world, — but  we 
have  become  heirs  of  the  eternal  kingdom,  sons 
and  daughters  of  the  Lord  Almighty.  We 


THE    FAMIT..Y   T1FE.  2"7 

have  left  Egypt,  but  Canaan  is  in  view.  We 
are  in  the  wilderness,  but  we  are  free.  Ours 
is  a  pathless  waste,  but  we  move  forward  under 
the  shadow  of  the  guardian  cloud.  Sorrowful, 
we  yet  rejoice ;  poor,  we  make  many  rich ; 
having  nothing,  we  yet  possess  all  things. 
We  have  a  rich  inheritance  in  reversion,  and 
a  Jong  eternity  in  which  to  enjoy  it  without 
fear  of  loss,  or  change,  or  end. 

Walking  thus  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight, 
what  should  move  us?  What  should  mar  our 
joy  ?  Does  it  not  come  from  that  which  is 
within  the  veil ;  and  what  storm  of  the  desert 
can  find  entrance  there?  Our  rejoicing  is  in 
the  Lord,  and  he  is  without  variableness  or 
shadow  of  turning.  We  know  that  this  is  not 
our  rest ;  neither  do  we  wish  it  were  so,  for  it 
is  polluted  ;  but  our  joy  is  this,  that  Jehovah 
is  our  God,  and  his  promised  glory  our  inheri- 
tance for  ever.  Our  morning  and  our  evening 
song  is  this,  "  The  Lord  is  the  portion  of  mine 
inheritance  and  of  my  cup ;  thou  maintainest 
my  lot :  the  lines  have  fallen  unto  me  in  pleas- 
ant places  ;  yea,  I  have  a  goodly  heritage."* 

Why  should  we.  then,  into  whose  hands  the 
cup  of  gladness  shall  ere  long  be  put,  shrink 

*  Psalms  xvi.  5. 


28  THE   FAMILY  LIFE. 

from  the  vinegar  ar  d  the  gall  ?  Why  should 
we,  who  have  dearer  friends  above,  better 
bonds  that  cannot  be  dissolved,  be  disconsolate 
at  the  severance  of  an  earthly  tie?  Our 
homes  may  be  empty,  our  firesides  may  be 
thinned,  and  our  hearts  may  bleed :  but  these 
are  not  enduring  things :  and  why  should  we 
feel  desolate  as  if  all  gladness  had  departed  ? 
Why  should  we,  who  shall  wear  a  crown,  and 
inherit  all  things,  sigh  or  fret  because  of  a  few 
years'  poverty  and  shame?  Earth's  dream 
will  soon  be  done ;  and  then  comes  the  day  of 
"  songs  and  everlasting  joy," — the  long  reality 
of  bliss  !  Jesus  will  soon  be  here ;  and  "  when 
He  who  is  our  life  shall  appear,  then  shall  we 
also  appear  with  him  in  glory." 

Shall  trial  shake  us?  Nay,  in  all  this  we 
are  more  than  conquerors  through  him  that 
loved  us.  Shall  sorrow  move  us?  Faith 
tells  us  of  a  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown  ! 
Shall  the  death  of  saints  move  us  ?  Faith 
tells  us  not  to  sorrow  as  those  who  have  no 
hope,  for  if  we  believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose 
again,  them  also  that  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God 
oring  with  him.  Shall  the  pains  and  weari- 
ness of  this  frail  body  move  us  ?  Faith  tells 
us  of  a  time  at  hand  when  this  corruptible 


THE   FAMILY   LIFE.  29 

shall  put  on  incorruption,  and  death  be  swal- 
lowed up  in  victory.  Shall  privation  move  us? 
Faith  tells  us  of  a  day  when  the  poverty  of  our 
exile  shall  be  forgotten  in  the  abundance  of 
our  peaceful,  plenteous  home,  where  we  shall 
hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more. 
Shall  the  disquieting  bustle  of  this  restless  life 
annoy  us  ?  Faith  tells  us  of  the  rest  that  re- 
maineth  for  the  people  of  God — the  sea  of  glass 
like  unto  crystal  on  which  the  ransomed  saints 
shall  stand — no  .tempest,  no  tumult,  no  ship- 
wreck there.  Shall  the  want  of  this  world's 
honors  move  us  ?  Faith  tells  us  of  the  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory  in  reserve. 
Have  we  no  place  to  lay  our  head?  Faith 
tells  us  that  we  have  a  home,  though  not  in 
Caesar's  house,  a  dwelling,  though  not  in  any 
city  of  earth.  Are  we  fearful  as  we  look 
around  upon  the  disorder  and  wretchedness  •  of 
this  misgoverned  earth?  Faith  tells  us  that 
the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh.  Do 
thoughts  of  death  alarm  us !  Faith  tells  us 
that  "  to  die  is  gain,"  and  whispers  to  us, — 
"  what,  are  you  afraid  of  becoming  immortal, 
afraid  of  passing  from  this  state  of  death,  which 
men  call  life,  to  that  which  alone  truly  deserves 
the  name !" 

3* 


30  THE    FAMILY   LIFE. 

Such  is  the  family  life — a  life  of  faith.  We 
live  upon  things  unseen.  Our  life  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God,  that  when  he  who  is  our  life 
shall  appear,  we  may  appear  with  him  in  glory. 
This  mode  of  life  is  not  that  of  the  world  at  all, 
but  the  very  opposite.  Nevertheless  it  has  been 
that  of  the  saints  from  the  beginning.  This 
is  the  way  in  which  they  have  walked,  going 
up  through  the  wilderness  leaning  on  their  be- 
loved. And  such  is  to  be  the  walk  of  the 
saints  till  the  Lord  come.  Oh  !  how  much  is 
there  in  these  thoughts  concerning  it,  not  only 
to  reconcile  us  to  it,  but  to  make  us  rejoice  in 
it,  and  to  say,  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of 
this  present  life,  are  not  worthy  to  be  compar- 
ed with  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  in 
us.  For  all  things  are  ours,  whether  life  or 
death,  things  present  or  things  to  come,  all  are 
ours ;  for  we  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's. 
Yea,  we  are  heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with 
Jesus  Christ.  "This  is  the  heritage  of  the 
servants  of  the  Lord,  and  their  righteousness 
is  of  me,  saith  the  Lord."* 

We  know  not  a  better  type  or  specimen  of 
the  family  life  than  Abraham  or  Israel  in 
vheir  desert  wanderings.  Look  at  Abraham. 
*  Is.  liv.  17. 


THE   FAMILY   LIFE.  31 

He  quits  all  at  the  comir  and  of  the  God  of 
glory.  This  begins  his  life  of  faith.  Then 
he  journeys  onward  not  knowing  whither. 
Then  he  sojourns  as  a  stranger  in  the  land 
which  God  had  given  him.  Then  he  offers 
up  Isaac.  Then  he  buys  for  himself  a  tomb, 
where  he  may  lay  his  dust  till  the  day  of 
resurrection.  All  is  faith.  He  lives  and  acts 
as  a  stranger.  He  has  no  home.  He  has  his 
altar  and  his  tent,  but  that  is  all.  The  one 
he  builds,  wherever  he  goes,  in  the  peaceful 
consciousness  of  sin  forgiven  and.  acceptance 
found  ;  the  other  he  pitches  from  day  to  day. 
in  token  of  his  being  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger 
upon  earth.  And  what  more  does  any  mem- 
ber of  the  family  need  below,  but  his  altar 
and  his  tent, — a  Saviour  for  a  sinful  soul,  and 
a  shelter  for  a  frail  body,  until  journeying 
days  are  done  ? 

Or  look  at  Israel.  They  quit  Egypt.  There 
the  life  of  faith  begins.  Then  they  cross  the 
Red  Sea.  Then  they  take  up  their  abode  in 
the  desert.  They  have  no  city  to  dwell  in 
now.  They  have  no  flesh-pots  now, — nothing 
but  the  daily  manna  for  food.  They  have 
no  river  of  Egypt  now, — nothing  but  a  rock 
to  yield  them  water.  All  is  waste  arounl 


32  THE   FAMILY   LIFE. 

All  is  to  be  of  faith,  not  of  sight.  They  are 
alone  with  God,  and  the  whole  world  is  afar 
off.  They  rear  their  altar,  they  pitch  their 
tents,  as  did  Abraham,  with  this  only  differ- 
ence, that  above  their  heads  there  floats  a 
wondrous  cloud,  which,  like  a  heavenly  cano- 
py, stretches  itself  out  over  their  dwellings 
when  they  rest,  or  like  an  angel-guide  takes 
wing  before  them  when  God  summons  them 
to  strike  their  tents,  that  it  may  lead  them  in 
the  way.  Nay,  and  as  if  to  mark  more  viv- 
idly the  pilgrim  condition  of  the  family,  God 
himself  when  coming  down  into  the  midst  of 
them  chooses  a  tent  to  dwell  in.  It  is  called 
"  the  tabernacle  of  the  Lord,"  or  more  literally 
"  Jehovah's  tent."  Jehovah  pitches  his  tent 
side  by  side  with  Israel's  tents,  as  if  he  were 
a  stranger  too,  a  wanderer  like  themselves  ! 

This  is  our  life.  We  are  to  be  strangers 
with  God  as  all  our  fathers  were.  It  is  the 
life  of  the  desert,  not  of  the  city.  But  what 
of  that?  All  is  well.  Jehovah  is  our  God, 
and  we  shall  soon  be  in  his  "  many  man- 
sions." Meanwhile  we  have  the  tent,  the 
altar,  and  the  cloud.  We  need  no  more  be- 
low. The  rest  is  secured  for  us  in  heaven, 
"  ready  to  be  revealed  in  the  last  time." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE     FAMILY     BADGE. 

THE  family  of  which  we  speak  is  gathered 
out  of  every  nation  and  kindred,  and  people, 
and  tongue.  It  is  "  a  great  multitude  that  no 
man  can  number." 

Yet  it  is  but  one  family.  There  is  a  family 
likeness  among  all  its  many  members ;  and  a 
family  name  by  which  they  are  known.  They 
have  many  things  in  common ;  nay,  there  are 
few  things  which  are  not  common  to  all.  They 
are  all  of  earth.  It  is  their  native  clime.  They 
are  all  sprinkled  with  the  same  blood,  and  be- 
gotten again  by  the  same  Spirit.  They  all 
sing  one  song,  use  one  language,  rejoice  in  one 
hope,  and  are  heirs  of  one  inheritance.  This 
oneness  of  feature  and  feeling  and  habit, 
throughout  so  many  ages  and  amid  so  many 
diverse  nations,  marks  them  out  as  a  peculiar 
people,  and  reveals  their  relationship  to  him 
who  is  "the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day  and 
for  ever." 

But  they  have  one  mark  more  peculiar  than 


34  THE    FAMILY    BADGE. 

any  of  these.  It  is  truly  a  family-badge.  They 
are  all  cross-bearers.  This  is  the  unfailing 
token  by  which  each  member  may  be  recog- 
nized. They  all  bear  a  cross.  Nor  do  they 
hide  it  as  if  ashamed  of  it.  They  make  it 
their  boast.  "  God  forbid  that  we  should 
glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  by  whom  the  world  is  crucified  to  us, 
and  we  unto  the  world."  Sometimes  it  is 
lighter,  and  sometimes  it  is  heavier ;  sometimes 
it  has  more  of  shame  and  suffering,  and  some- 
times less,  but  still  it  is  upon  them.  They 
carry  it  with  them  wherever  they  go.  And  it 
is  always  a  cross :  not  merely  so  in  name,  but 
in  reality ;  a  token  of  reproach  and  sorrow. 
Sometimes  they  are  represented  as  carrying  it; 
and  sometimes  as  being  nailed  to  it ;  but  it  is 
still  the  cross. 

They  took  it  up  when  first  they  believed  in 
Jesus  and  owned  him  as  their  all.  Then  it 
was  that  they  forsook  the  world's  tents  and 
went  without  the  gate,  bearing  the  reproach 
of  the  crucified  One.  He  whom  they  follow 
both  bare  the  cross  and  was  nailed  to  it,  and 
why  should  they  shrink  from  the  like  endur- 
ance? Shall  they  be  ashamed  of  him  ?  Shall 
they  not  rather  count  it  honorable  to  follow 


THE    FAMILY    BADGE.  35 

where  he  has  led  the  way,  and  to  bear  for  him 
some  faint  resemblance  of  what  he  bore  foi 
them?  Shall  any  thing  in  the  world  be 
esteemed  more  precious,  more  honorable,  than 
the  cross  of  their  beloved  Lord  'I  The  world 
derides  and  despises  it,  but  it  is  the  cross  of 
Jesus  ;  and  that  is  ALL  to  them.  As  a  saint  of 
other  days,  a  cross-bearer  of  the  olden  time, 
has  said,  "  O  blessed  cross  of  Christ,  there  is 
no  wood  like  thine." 

Besides,  this  was  the  Master's  will.  He 
has  laid  on  each  the  command  to  bear  the 
cross.  "  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let 
him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross  daily, 
and  follow  me."*  "He  that  taketh  not  his 
cross  and  followeth  after  me  is  not  worthy  of 
me."t  The  cross,  then,  is  the  badge  of  disci- 
pleship,  and  no  follower  of  the  Lord  can  be 
without  it.  The  two  things  are  inseparable. 
God  has  joined  them,  and  man  cannot  sunder 
them.  No  cross,  no  saint.  No  cross,  no  Son. 
We  must  carry  his  cross  all  our  life  long ;  we 
must  be  baptized  with  his  baptism ;  we  must 
endure  his  reproach ;  we  must  glory  in  being 
clothed  with  his  shame.  The  flesh  must  be 

*  Luke  ix.  23.  t  Matt.  x.  38. 


36  THE    FAMILY    BADGE. 

crucified  with  its  affections  and  lusts :  our 
members  must  be  mortified ;  our  old  man  must 
take  the  place  of  shame  ;  we  in  whom  the  flesh 
still  remaineth,  though  its  dominion  is  broken, 
must  be  willing  to  appear  as  outcasts  and  ma- 
lefactors before  the  world,  as  Jesus  did  when 
he  bore  our  sins  upon  the  hill  of  shame.  Jesus 
then  with  his  own  hand  lays  the  cross  on  each 
one  that  comes  to  him,  saying,  "take  this  and 
follow  me."  Take  it  and  be  reproached  for 
me.  Take  it  and  endure  tribulation  for  me. 
Take  it  and  count  all  tilings  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ 
thy  Lord.  Take  it  and  be  willing  to  go  even 
to  prison  or  to  death  for  me,  not  counting  your 
life  dear  unto  you,  that  you  may  follow  me  to 
the  end,  and  receive  the  unfading  crown. 
Learn  to  endure  the  cross  and  to  despise  the 
shame. 

But  farther,  we  have  the  Master's  example 
as  well  as  the  Master's  will  concerning  this. 
I  do  not  mean  merely  that  he  hung  upon  the 
cross.  I  do  not  refer  simply  to  the  fact  of  his 
crucifixion.  I  mean  much  more  than  that. 
That  was  but  the  closing  scene  of  a  whole  life 
of  crucifixion.  He  was  a  cross-bearer  from  the 
hour  that  he  was  laid  in  the  manger.  All  hig 


THE    FAMILY    BADGE.  37 

days  he  bore  the  cross.  His  life  was  but  a 
pilgrimage  to  Calvary  with  the  cross  upon  his 
shoulders.  Tradition  tells  ui  that,  as  he  left 
the  Judgment  Hall,  he  was  led  along  th« 
"  dolorous  way,"  to  Golgotha.  But  in  truth  his 
whole  course  on  earth  was  the  mournful  way. 
It  was  all  reproach  and  sorrow  from  his  cradle 
to  his  grave.  His  was  a  sorrowing  life  ;  and 
his  death  was  but  the  summing  up  of  his  many 
sorrows ;  the  gathering  of  them  all  together 
and  pressing  them  into  his  cup  at  once,  till  the 
vessel  burst,  because  it  could  hold  no  more. 
And  then,  for  Him,  the  cross  and  the  shame 
and  the  sorrow  were  at  an  end  for  ever.  But 
for  us  the  cross  remaineth  still. 

Throughout  life  he  was  the  "  man  of  sor- 
rows." He  was  "acquainted  with  grief." 
And  herein  we  see  something  more  of  the 
family  badge,  as  it  was  displayed  in  the  Elder 
Brother.  Acquaintanceship  with  grief !  This 
is  the  description  given  us  of  it.  It  is  not  one 
visit  that  makes  us  acquainted  with  a  fellow 
man.  Companionship  is  the  result  of  con- 
tinued intercourse.  So  one  sorrow  does  not 
make  us  acquainted  with  grief,  however  deep 
and  sharp  its  pangs  may  be.  It  may  be  the 
beginning  of  our  acquaintanceship,  but  that 
4 


38  THE    FAMILY    BADGE. 

is  all.  There  must  be  daily,  hourly  inter- 
course. Thus  it  was  with  Jesus.  Thirty- 
three  years  daily  converse  with  grief  made 
him  acquainted  with  it.  And  so  it  is  with  us. 
The  saints  are  men  of  sorrows  still :  and 
their  acquaintanceship  with  grief  must  be  ob- 
tained by  daily  fellowship.  The  disciple  is 
not  above  his  Master,  nor  the  servant  above 
his  Lord.  We  need  not  think  of  another 
process  than  that  which  he  underwent.  He 
was  made  perfect  through  sufferings,  and  so 
must  we.  The  Captain  of  our  Salvation  is, 
hi  this  respect,  the  model  and  pattern  of  his 
saved  ones.  We  are  "  always  to  bear  about 
in  the  body  the  dying  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that 
the  life  also  of  Jesus  may  be  made  manifest 
in  our  body."* 

It  is  the  Lamb  that  we  follow  :  the  Lamb 
"  as  it  had  been  slain."  This  surely  speaks 
most  plainly  of  the  family  badge.  We  are 
followers  of  the  man  with  the  pierced  hands 
and  feet ;  the  man  who  is  covered  all  over 
with  the  marks  of  the  buffet  and  the  scourge 
and  the  spitting  ;  the  man  with  the  crown  of 
thorns.  Yea ;  he  is  our  Elder  Brother.  He 
is  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh. 
*  2  Cor.  iv.  10. 


THE    FAMILY    BADGE.  89 

And  if  we  see  so  distinctly  the  family  badge 
on  him.  shall  we  shrink  from  taking  it  up 
and  binding  it  in  triumph,  as  a  jewel,  on  our 
forehead — as  a  crown  upon  our  head  ?  Sure- 
ly the  purple  robe  of  mockery  may  beseem  us 
better  than  it  suited  Him. 

There  is  one  mark  by  which,  from  the  be- 
ginning, he  has  been  distinguished  as  the 
woman's  seed  predicted  in  Eden.  It  is  the 
bruised  heel.  This  is,  in  truth,  only  another 
way  of  expressing  his  character  as  the  suffer- 
ing, the  crucified  Son  of  Man.  This  was  the 
mark  which  God  gave  by  which  he  was  to  be 
known.  Yet  it  was  just  at  this  stumbling 
stone  that  Israel  stumbled.  They  had  no 
eyes  for  the  dying  Saviour.  The  humbled 
Jesus  found  no  favor  with  them.  The  bruised 
heel  they  could  not  awTay  with.  The  very 
mark  which  God  set  upon  him  as  Messiah 
was  that  on  account  of  which  Israel  rejected 
him.  Yet  it  is  the  bruised  heel  in  which  we 
rejoice.  It  is  the  man  with  the  bruised  heel 
that  has  won  our  hearts.  It -is  him  that  we 
follow  :  and  his  bruised  heel  we  engrave  upon 
our  banner  as  our  most  honorable  badge. 

The  like  bruising  we  look  for  as  our  por- 
tion here.  Nor  are  we  ashamed  of  it.  All 


40  THE    FAMILY   BADGE. 

the  saints  before  us  have  experienced  it,  and 
are  we  better  than  they  ?  Shall  the  soldiers 
of  the  last  days  be  ashamed  to  wear  the  uni- 
form which  the  army  of  the  saints  has  gloried 
in  for  six  thousand  years  ? 

It  is  very  remarkable  that  the  Apostle  fixes 
upon  affliction  as  the  mark  of  true  Sonship. 
Truly  he  makes  it  the  family  badge.  Nay,  he 
makes  it  the  test  of  our  legitimacy.  "  What 
son  is  he  whom  the  father  chasteneth  not? 
But  if  ye  be  without  chastisement,  whereof  all 
are  partakers,  then  are  ye  bastards  and  not 
sons."*  Strong  language  this  !  Had  any  but 
an  inspired  apostle  used  it,  there  would  have 
been  outcry  against  it  as  absurd  and  extrava- 
gant. Let  us,  however,  take  it  as  it  is,  for  we 
know  that  it  speaks  the  mind  of  God.  Chas- 
tisement is,  then,  really  one  of  the  chief  marks 
of  our  lawful  'and  honorable  birth.  Were 
this  characteristic  not  to  be  found  on  us,  we 
should  be  lacking  in  one  of  the  proofs  of  our 
sonship.  Our  legitimacy  might  be  called  in 
question.  It  might  be  said  that  he  was  not 
recognizing  us  as  his  true-born  sons,  and  that 
either  he  had  never  received  us  as  such,  or  had 
rejected  us.  There  must  be  the  family  badge. 
*  Heb.  xii.  7,  8. 


THE    FAMILY   BADGE.  41 

to  establish  our  claim  of  birth,  and  to  be  a 
pledge  of  paternal  recognition  on  the  part  of 
God  our  Father. 

It  is  a  solemn  thought.  Flesh  and  blood 
shrink  from  it.  We  look  around  to  see  if  there 
be  no  way  of  escaping,  and  ask  if  it  must  be 
so  ?  Yes,  it  must  be,  as  we  shall  shortly  see, 
and  the  attempt  to  shun  it  is  vain.  Yet  it  is 
also  a  blessed  thought.  It  cheers  us  under 
trial  to  remember  that  this  is  the  Father's  seal 
set  upon  his  true-born  sons.  Oh!  how  it 
lightens  the  load  to  think  that  it  is  really  the 
pledge  of  our  divine  adoption. 

We  need  not  then  count  upon  bright  days 
below,  nor  think  to  pass  lightly  over  the  plea- 
sant earth,  as  if  our  life  were  but  the  "  shadow 
of  a  dream."  Joy  within  we  may  expect, — 
"joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory,"  for  that  is 
the  family-portion.  But  joy  from  without,  the 
joy  of  earth's  sunshine,  the  joy  of  the  world's 
ease  and  abundance,  the  joy  of  unsevered 
bonds  and  unweeping  eyes,  is  not  our  lot  in 
this  vale  of  tears. 

Still,  in  the  midst  of  the  ever-wakeful  storms 

through  which  we  are  passing  to  the  Kingdom, 

there  is  peace — deep  peace — too  deep  for  any 

storm  of  earth  to  reach.   In  the  world  we  have 

4* 


42  THE    FAMILY   BADGE. 

tribulation,  but  in  Jesus  we  have  peace.  "Peace 
I  leave  with  you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you, 
not  as  the  world  giveth  give  I  unto  you."  And 
it  is  this  which  gives  the  peculiar  aspect  to  the 
saints,  the  aspect  of  mingled  joy  and  grief. 
The  eye  is  dim  with  tears,  yet,  behold !  it 
glistens  with  joy.  There  is  the  brow  of  shaded 
thought,  yet  peace  is  playing  round  it.  Clouds 
overshadow  them,  but  on  every  cloud  we  see 
calm  sunshine  resting. 

Their  "  peace  is  like  a  river."  It  is  not 
stagnant  as  the  lake,  nor  tumultuous  as  the 
sea,  but  ever  in  calm  motion,  ever  flowing  on 
in  its  deep  channel,  like  a  river.  The  course 
may  sometimes  be  through  rocks,  sometimes 
through  level  plains,  sometimes  through  tan- 
gled brakes,  sometimes  along  the  corn-field  or 
".the  hill  of  vines,"  yet  still  it  moves  unhin- 
dered on.  It  may  be  night  or  day,  it  may  be 
winter  or  summer,  it  may  be  storm  or  calm, 
but  it  is  there — flowing  on  till  the  embrace  of 
ocean  receives  it.  Such  is  our  peace  !  Let  us 
hold  it  fast. 

Nor  need  we  hide  our  peace  any  more  than 
we  should  hide  our  cross.  Let  the  world  see 
both,  and  learn  how  well  they  agree  together. 
For  it  is  the  cross  that  makes  this  peace  feel  so 


THE    FAMILY   BADGB.  43 

sweet  and  suitable.  Amid  the  tears  of  grief, 
peace  keeps  her  silent  place,  like  the  rainbow 
upon  the  spray  of  the  cataract ;  nor  can  it  be 
driven  thence  so  long  as  Jehovah's  sunshine 
rests  upon  the  soul.  "  The  work  of  righteous- 
ness shall  be  peace,  and  the  effect  of  righteous- 
ness, quietness  and  assurance  for  ever." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    FAMILY   DISCIPLINE. 

"TRAIN  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should 
go,"  is  the  injunction  God  lays  on  us.  But  it 
is,  moreover,  the  principle  on  which  he  himself 
is  acting  with  his  Church.  He  is  training  up 
his  children  here.  This  is  the  true  character 
of  his  dealings  with  them.  The  education  of 
his  saints  is  the  object  he  has  in  view.  It  is 
training  for  the  kingdom  ;  it  is  education  for 
eternity. 

How  momentous,  then,  is  the  training  !  It 
is  God  who  is  carrying  it  on  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  It  is  the  Church,  which  is  the  body  of 
Christ,  that  is  the  subject  of  it.  And  it  is  to 
prepare  her  for  an  everlasting  kingdom  !  In 
bringing  many  sons  unto  glory,  it  was  needful 
that  even  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  should 
be  made  perfect  through  suffering.  Surely 
then  God  lays  vast  stress  upon  this  discipline. 
In  his  estimation  it  is  no  unimportant,  nor  un- 
meaning exercise.  Knowing  this,  the  apostle 
exhorts  us  on  this  very  point,  "My  son,  de- 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  45 

spise  not  thou  the  chastening  of  the  Lord."  It 
is  too  solemn  to  be  despised,  too  momentous  to 
be  overlooked.  The  education  of  God's  family 
is  concerned  in  it.  The  preparation  of  an  heir 
of  glory  depends  on  it. 

This  discipline  begins  at  our  conversion. 
The  moment  we  are  taken  into  the  family  it 
commences.  "  He  scourgeth  ef  ery  son  whom 
he  receiveth."  It  is  not  always  visible ;  neither 
are  we  at  all  times  conscious  of  its  operation. 
Nevertheless,  from  the  very  day  that  u  we  are 
begotten  again  to  a  lively  hope  "  it  begins. 

It  ends  only  with  life,  or  in  the  case  of  the 
last  generation  of  the  church,  with  their  being 
"  caught  up  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the  air."  It  is 
a  wrhole  lifetime's  process.  It  is  a  daily,  an 
hourly  discipline,  which  admits  of  no  cessation. 
The  rod  may  not  always  be  applied,  but  still 
the  discipline  goes  on. 

1.  It  is  the  discipline  of  love.  Every  step 
of  it  is  kindness.  There  is  no  wrath  or  ven- 
geance in  any  part  of  the  process.  The  dis- 
cipline of  the  school  may  be  harsh  and  stern  ; 
but  that  of  the  family  is  love.  We  are  sure  of 
this ;  and  the  consolation  which  it  affords  is 
unutterable.  Love  will  not  wrong  us.  There 
will  be  no  needless  suffering.  Were  this  but 


46  THE   FAMILY   DISCIPLINE. 

kept  in  mind  there  would  be  fewer  hard 
thoughts  of  God  amongst  men,  even  when  his 
strokes  were  most  severe.  I  know  not  a  better 
illustration  of  what  the  feelings  of  a  saint 
should  be,  in  the  hour  of  bitterness,  than  the 
case  of  Richard  Cameron's  father.  The  aged 
saint  was  in  prison  "  for  the  Word  of  God  and 
the  testimony  of  Jesus  Christ."  The  bleeding 
head  of  his  martyred  son  was  brought  to  him 
by  his  unfeeling  persecutors,  and  he  was  asked 
derisively  if  he  knew  it.  "  I  know  it,  I  know 
it;" — said  the  father,  as  he  kissed  the  mangled 
forehead  of  his  fair-haired  son, — "  it  is  my 
son's  ;  my  own  dear  son's  !  It  is  the  Lord  ! 
good  is  the  will  of  the  Lord,  who  cannot  wrong 
me  or  mine,  but  who  hath  made  goodness  and 
mercy  to  follow  us  all  our  days." 

2.  It  is  the  discipline  of  wisdom.  He  who 
administers  it,  is  the  "  God  only  wise."  What 
deep  wisdom  then  must  there  be  in  all  his 
dealings.  He  knows  exactly  what  we  need, 
and  how  to  supply  it.  He  knows  what  evils 
are  to  be  found  in  us,  and  how  these  may  be 
best  removed.  His  training  is  no  rauiom  work. 
It  is  carried  on  with  exquisite  skill.  The  time 
and  the  way  and  the  instrument,  are  all  ac- 
cording to  the  perfect  wisdom  of  God.  The 


THE   FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  47 

fittest  time  is  chosen, — just  the  very  moment 
when  discipline  was  called  for,  and  when  it 
would  be  most  profitable.  The  surest,  direct- 
est,  and  at  the  same  time  most  gentle  method 
is  devised.  The  instrument  which  will  be 
surest  yet  safest,  most  effectual  yet  least  pain- 
ful, is  brought  into  operation.  For  all  is  wis- 
dom in  this  discipline  of  God. 

3.  It  is  the  discipline  of  faithfulness.  "In 
faithfulness  thou  hast  afflicted  me,"  said  Da- 
vid. All  is  the  doing  of  a  faithful  God, — a 
God  who  is  faithful  to  us  as  well  as  faithful 
to  himself.  "  Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a 
friend,"  says  Solomon  ;  and  the  believer  finds 
in  trouble  the  faithfulness  of  the  truest  of 
friends.  He  is  so  faithful  that  he  will  not 
pass  by  a  single  fault  that  he  sees  in  us ;  but 
will  forthwith  make  it  known  that  it  may  be 
removed.  He  gave  this  command  to  Israel, 
"  thou  shall  in  any  wise  rebuke  thy  neigh- 
bor, and  not  suffer  sin  upon  him  ;"*  and  he 
himself  acts  upon  the  command  he  gave.  He 
is  too  faithful  a  father  to  suffer  sin  upon  his 
children  unreproved.  He  is  true  to  us,  whether 
in  sending  the  evil  or  the  good ;  shall  we  not 
Bay,  more  true  and  more  faithful  when  he 
*  Lev.  xix.  17. 


48  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

inflicts  the  evil,  than  when  he  bestows  tha 
good?  It  almost  at  times  seems  to  break 
the  heart  of  a  loving  friend  to  be  obliged  to 
say  or  do  any  thing  severe  towards  the  friend 
he  loves.  Yet  for  love's  sake  he  will  do 
it.  In  faithfulness  he  will  not  shrink  from 
it.  And  in  doing  so,  is  he  not  true  to  his 
friend  ?  So  with  a  chastening  God.  He  is 
faithful  when  he  blesses — more  faithful  when 
he  chastens.  This  surely  is  consolation.  It 
may  well  allay  all  murmuring,  and  stablish 
our  hearts  in  peace. 

4.  It  is  the  discipline  of  power.  He  who 
is  carrying  it  on,  is  not  one  that  can  be  baffled 
and  forced  to  give  up  his  design.  He  is  able 
to  carry  it  out  in  the  unlikeliest  circumstan- 
ces and  against  the  most  resolute  resistance. 
Everything  must  give  way  before  him.  This 
thought  is,  I  confess,  to  me  one  of  the  most 
comforting  connected  with  the  discipline.  If 
it  could  fail ! — if  God  could  be  frustrated  in 
his  designs  after  we  have  suffered  so  much,  it 
would  be  awful.  To  be  scourged,  and  put  to 
pain,  by  one  who  is  not  able  to  make  good  to 
us  the  profit  of  this,  would  add  inconceivable 
bitterness  to  the  trial.  And  then  our  hearts 
are  so  hard,  our  wills  so  stubborn,  that  nothing, 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  49 

save  an  Almighty  pressure  applied  to  them 
can  work  the  desired  change.  Oh,  when  the 
soul  is  at  strife  within  itself,  battling  in  despe- 
rate conflict  with  its  stormy  lusts,  when  the 
flesh  rises  up  in  its  strength  and  refuses  to 
yield,  when  the  whole  heart  appears  like  iron 
or  like  adamant ;  it  is  most  blessed  to  think 
upon  God's  chastisements  as  the  discipline  of 
power.  It  is  this  that  assures  us  that  all  shall 
yet  be  well.  And  it  is  in  the  strength  of  this 
assurance,  that  we  gird  ourselves  for  the  bat- 
tle, knowing'that  we  must  be  more  than  con- 
querors through  him  that  loved  us. 

There  might  be  love  in  the  dealing, — love 
to  the  uttermost, — and  yet  all  be  in  vain. 
For  love  is  oftentimes  helpless,  unable  to  do 
aught  for  the  beloved  object.  There  might  be 
wisdom  too,  and  yet  it  might  prove  wholly  in- 
effectual. There  might  also  be  untiring  faith- 
fulness, yet  no  results.  It  might  be  altogether 
impotent  even  in  its  fondest  vigilance.  It 
might  be  baffled  in  its  most  earnest  attempts 
to  bless.  But  when  it  is  infinite  power  that  is 
at  work,  we  are  sure  of  every  obstacle  being 
surmounted,  and  every  thing  that  is  blessed 
coming  most  surely  to  pass.  My  sick  bed 
may  be  most  lovingly  tended,  most  skillfully 
5 


50  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

provided  for,  most  faithfully  watched  :  and  I 
may  be  most  sweetly  soothed  by  this  fond  and 
unwearied  care  :  yet,  if  there  be  no  power  to 
heal,  no  resistless  energy,  such  as  sweeps  all 
hindrances  before  it,  then  I  may  still  lie  hope- 
less there  :  but,  if  the  power  to  heal  be  pre- 
sent, the  power  that  makes  all  diseases  fly  its 
touch,  the  power  that,  if  need  be,  can  raise  the 
dead,  then  I  know,  of  a  truth,  that  all  is  well. 
Oh,  it  is  blessed  and  comforting'  to  remember 
that  it  is  the  discipline  of  power  that  is  at 
work  upon  us.  God's  treatment  must  suc- 
ceed. It  cannot  miscarry  or  be  frustrated 
even  in  its  most  arduous  efforts,  even  in  refer- 
ence to  its  minutest  objects.  It  is  the  mighty 
power  of  God  that  is  at  work  within  us,  and 
upon  us,  and  this  is  our  consolation.  It  is  the 
grasp  of  an  infinite  hand  that  is  upon  us,  and 
nothing  can  resist  its  pressure.  All  is  love,  all 
is  wisdom,  and  all  is  faithfulness,  yet  all  is 
also  power.  The  very  possibility  of  failure  is 
thus  taken  away.  Were  it  not  for  this  power 
there  could  be  no  certainty  of  blessing,  and 
were  it  not  for  this  certainty,  how  poor  and 
partial  would  our  comfort  be.  He,  Ah  yes, 
He  who  chastises  us  is  "  ABLE  to  do  exceed- 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  51 

ing  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or  think, 
according  to  the  power  that  worketh  in  us."* 

Hence  to  a  soul,  conscious  of  utter  helpless- 
ness, and  weary  of  the  struggle  within,  be- 
tween the  spirit  and  the  flesh,  there  is  "  strong 
consolation'*5  in  remembering  the  power  of  him 
whose  hand  is  now  grasping  him  so  firmly  on 
every  side.  His  sore-tossed  spirit  finds  peace 
in  calling  to  mind  "  the  years  of  the  right 
hand  of  the  Most  High ;"  all  the  "  works  of 
the  Lord  c«nd  his  wonders  of  old."  The 
"  strength  of  Israel"  is  the  name  he  delights 
in,  as  the  name  of  his  chastener.  He  thus 
bethinks  himself — "  The  God  that  made  these 
heavens  and  stretched  them  out  in  their  vast- 
ness  and  majesty  ;  who  moves  these  stars  in 
their  courses  and  arrests  them  at  a  word,  is 
the  God  that  is  chastening  me.  He  who  raises 
and  stills  the  mighty  deep  with  all  the  multi- 
tude of  its  waves,  the  God  of  the  tempest  and 
of  the  earthquake,  '  the  framer  of  light  and 
dark,  the  wielder  of  the  lightning  and  the 
builder  of  the  everlasting  hills,  is  the  God  who 
is  now  laying  his  rod  so  heavily  upon  me." 
Thus  each  new  proof  or  aspect  of  Jehovah's 

»  Eph.  iii.  20. 


52  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

power,  becomes  a  new  source  of  consolation  in 
the  day  of  chastisement  and  sorrow. 

Such,  then,  is  the  nature  of  the  family  dis- 
cipline when  viewed  in  reference  to  God. 
Love,  wisdom,  faithfulness,  and  power  unite 
to  devise  and  carry  it  out.  It  must,  then,  be 
perfect  discipline,  the  completest  and  most 
successful  that  can  be  thought  of  or  desired. 
It  is  well  to  look  at  it  in  this  light ;  for  it  is 
thus  that  we  become  entirely  satisfied  with  all 
that  comes  to  pass,  and  feel  that  "  it  is  well." 
But  let  us  consider  it  in  another  aspect.  We 
have  seen  what  it  is  when  flowing  out  of 
God  ;  let  us  see  what  it  is  when  operating 
upon  man. 

As  we  observed  before,  God's  object  in  chas- 
tisement is  the  education  of  his  children,  the 
training  up  of  the  saints.  It  is  their  imper- 
fect spiritual  condition  that  makes  this  so  ne- 
cessary. And  now  we  proceed  to  inquire  in 
what  way  it  works,  and  towards  what  regions 
of  the  soul  it  is  specially  directed.  For  while, 
doubtless,  it  embraces  the  whole  soul  in  all  its 
parts  and  powers,  it  may  be  well  to  consider 
it  as  more  especially  set  to  work  upon  its 
mind,  its  will,  its  heart,  and  its  conscience. 

1.  It  is  the  training  of  the  mind.     We  are 


THE    FAMILY    DISCI! LINE.  53 

naturally  most  untcachable  as  well  as  most 
ignorant;  neither  knowing  any  thing  nor  will- 
ing to  know.  The  ease  of  prosperous  days 
augments  the  evil.  God  at  length  interposes 
and  compels  us  to  learn.  "  The  rod  and  re 
proof  give  wisdom."*  He  sends  trial,  and  that 
makes  us  willing  to  learn.  Our  unteachable- 
ness  gives  way.  We  become  aware  of  our 
ignorance.  We  seek  teaching  from  on  high. 
God  begins  his  work  of  instruction.  Light 
pours  in  on  every  side.  We  grow  amazingly 
in  knowledge.  We  learn  the  meaning  of 
words  now  which  we  had  hitherto  used  but  as 
familiar  sounds.  Scripture  shines  out  before 
us  in  new  effulgence ;  it  flashes  into  us ;  every 
verse  seems  to  contain  a  sunbeam  ;  dark  places 
become  light ;  every  promise  stands  out  in  illu- 
minated splendor;  things  hard  to  be  under- 
stood become  in  a  moment  plain. 

How  fast  we  learn  in  a  day  of  sorrow !  It 
is  as  if  affliction  awoke  our  powers,  and  lent 
them  new  quickness  of  perception.  We  ad- 
vance more  in  the  knowledge  of  Scripture  in  a 
single  day  than  in  years  before.  We  learn 
"  songs  in  the  night,"  though  such  music  was 
unknown  before.  A  deeper  experience  has 

*  Prov.  xxix.  15. 
5* 


54  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

taken  us  down  into  the  depths  of  Scripture,  and 
shown  us  its  hidden  wonders.  Luther  used  to 
say,  "  Were  it  not  for  tribulation  I  should  not 
understand  Scripture."  And  every  sorrowing 
saint  responds  to  this,  as  having  felt  its  truth, — 
felt  it  as  did  David,  when  he  said,  "  Blessed  is 
the  man  whom  thou  chastenest,  and  teachest 
him  out  of  thy  law."*  "  It  is  good  for  me  that  I 
have  been  afflicted ;  that  I  might  learn  thy 
statutes."!  What  teaching,  what  training  of 
the  mind  goes  on  upon  a  sick  bed,  or  under 
the  pressure  of  grief!  And,  oh,  what  great 
and  wondrous  things  will  even  some  little  trial 
whisper  in  the  ear  of  a  soul  that  is  "  learning 
of  the  Father !" 

In  some  cases  t,his  profit  is  almost  unfelt,  at 
least  during  the  continuance  of  the  process. 
We  think  that  we  are  learning  nothing.  Sor- 
row overwhelms  us.  Disaster  stuns  us.  We 
become  confused,  nervous,  agitated,  or  perhaps 
insensible.  We  seem  to  derive  no  profit.  Yet 
ere  long  we  begin  to  feel  the  blessed  results. 
Maturity  of  judgment,  patience  in  listening  to 
the  voice  of  God,  a  keener  appetite  for  his 
word,  a  quicker  discernment  of  its  meaning — 
these  are  soon  realized  as  the  gracious  results 

*  Ps.  iciv.  12.  t  Ps.  cxix.  71. 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  53 

of  chastisement.  The  mind  has  undergone  a 
most  thorough  discipline,  and  has,  moreover, 
made  wondreus  progress  in  the  knowledge  of 
divine  truth  through  the  teaching  of  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

2.  It  is  the  training  of  the  will.  The  will 
is  the  -»eat  of  rebelliousness.  Here  the  warfare 
is  carried  on.  "  The  flesh  lusteth  against  the 
spirit,  and  the  spirit  against  the  flesh."  At 
conversion  the  will  is  bent  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, but  it  is  still  crooked  and  rigid.  Rebel- 
liousness is  still  there.  Prosperous  days  may 
sometimes  conceal  it,  so  that  we  are  almost 
unconscious  of  its  strength.  But  it  still  exists. 
Furnace-heat  is  needed  for  softening  and 
strengthening  it.  No  milder  remedy  will  do. 
"It  requires  (says  a  suffering  saint)  all  the 
energy  of  God  to  bend  my  will  to  his."  Yet 
it  must  be  done.  The  will  is  the  soul's  cita- 
del. Hence  it  is  the  will  that  God  seems  so 
specially  to  aim  at  in  chastisement.  Fire  after 
fire  does  he  kindle  in  order  to  soften  it ;  and 
blowr  after  blow  does  he  fetch  down  on  it  to 
straighten  it.  Nor  does  he  rest  till  he  has 
made  it  thoroughly  flexible,  and  hammered 
out  of  it  the  many  relics  of  self  which-  it  con- 
tains. He  wilt  not  stay  his  hand  till  he  has 


56  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

thoroughly  marred  our  self-formed  plans,  and 
shown  us  the  folly  of  our  self-chosen  ways. 

This  is  specially  the  case  in  long-continued 
trials ;  either  when  these  come  stroke  after 
stroke  in  sad  succession,  or  when  one  fearful 
stroke,  at  the  outset,  has  left  behind  it  conse- 
quences which  years  perhaps  will  not  fully 
unfold.  The  bending  and  straightening  of 
the  will  is  often  a  long  process,  during  which 
the  soul  has  to  pass  through  Avaters  deep  and 
many,  through  fires  hot  and  ever  kindling  up 
anew.  Protracted  trials  seem  specially  aimed 
at  the  will.  Its  perversity  and  stiffness  can 
only  be  wrought  out  of  it  by  a  long  succession 
of  trials.  It  is  only  by  degrees  that  it  becomes 
truly  pliable,  and  is  brought  into  harmony  with 
the  will  of  God.  We  can  at  a  stroke  lop  off 
the  unseemly  branch  ;  but  to  give  a  proper 
bent  to  the  tree  itself,  we  require  time  and  assi- 
duous appliances  for  months  or  years.  Yet  the 
will  must  give  way.  However  proud,  however 
froward,  it  must  bend.  God  will  not  leave  it 
till  he  has  made  it  one  with  his  own.* 

3.  It  is  the  training  of  the  heart.     Man's 
heart  beats  false  to  God.     It  is  true  to  many 

*  "  Character  is  a  perfectly  educated  will," — says  a  German 
writer. 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  57 

things  but  false  to  him.  When  first  the  Holy 
Spirit  touches  it,  and  shows  it  "  the  exceeding 
riches  of  the  grace  of  God,"  then  it  becomes  in 
some  measure  true.  Yet  it  is  only  in  part. 
Much  false-heartedness  still  remains.  It  clings 
too  fondly  to  the  creature.  It  cleaves  to  the 
dust.  It  is  not  wholly  God's.  But  this  cannot 
be.  God  must  have  the  heart ;  nay,  and  he 
must  have  it  beating  truly  towards  him.  He 
is  jealous  of  our  love,  and  grieves,  over  its  fee- 
bleness or  its  falling  away.  It  is  love  that  he 
wants,  and  with  nothing  but  true-hearted  love 
will  he  be  satisfied.  For  this  it  is  that  he 
chastises.  These  false  throbbings  of  the  heart ; 
these  goings  out  after  other  objects  than  him- 
self, he  cannot  suffer,  but  must  correct,  or  else 
forego  his  claim.  Hence  he  smites  and  spares 
not  till  he  has  made  us  sensible  of  our  guilt  in 
this  respect.  He  strips  off  the  leaves  whose 
beauty  attracted  us  ;  he  cuts  down  the  flowers 
whose  fragrance  fascinated  us ;  he  tears  off  one 
string  after  another  from  the  lyre  whose  music 
charmed  us.  Then  when  he  has  shewed  us 
each  object  of  earth  in  its  nakedness  or  de- 
formity, then  he  presents  himself  to  us  in  the 
brightness  of  his  own  surpassing  glory.  And 
thus  he  wins  the  heart.  Thus  he  makes  it 


58  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPL3  VTE. 

true  to  him.  Thus  he  makes  us  ashamed  of 
our  false-heartedness  to  himself,  and  to  the  Son 
of  his  love. 

Yet  this  is  no  easy  process.  This  training 
is  hard  and  sore.  The  heart  bleeds  under  it. 
Yet  it  must  go  on.  No  part  of  it  can  be 
spared.  Nor  will  it  cease  till  the  heart  is  won  ! 
If  the  chastener  should  stay  his  hand  before 
this  is  effected,  where  would  be  his  love  ? 
What  poor,  what  foolish  affection  !  He  knew 
this  when  he  said,  "  let  them  alone  ;"  and  it 
was  the  last  thing  that  his  love  consented  to 
do,  after  all  else  had  failed.  One  of  the 
sharpest,  sorest  words  he  ever  spoke  to  Israel, 
was,  "  why  should  ye  be  stricken  any  more." 
Let  us  remember  this,  and  not  faint,  even 
though  the  heart  has  been  long  bleeding.  Let 
us  remember  it,  and  seek  to  make  the  sorrow 
shorter,  by  gladly  joining  with  him  in  his  plan 
for  getting  possession  of  our  whole  heart.  We 
need  not  grudge  it.  He  has  "  good  measure" 
to  give  us  in  return.  His  love  will  taste  the 
sweeter,  and  it  will  abide  and  satisfy  us  for 
ever.  And  it  is  well  for  us  to  be  thus  trained 
up  to  love  him  here,  with  whom,  in  love  and 
fellowship  unbroken,  we  are  to  spend  the  ever- 
lasting day. 


THE    FAMILY   DISCIPLINE.  59 

4.  It  is  the  training  of  the  conscience.  A 
seared  conscience  is  the  sinner's  heritage.  It 
is  upon  this  that  the  Holy  Spirit  first  lays  his 
hand  when  he  awakens  the  soul  from  its  sleep 
of  death.  He  touches  the  conscience,  and 
then  the  struggles  of  conviction  come.  He 
then  pacifies  it  by  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood, 
shewing  it  Jesus  and  his  cross.  Then  giving 
it  to  taste  forgiveness,  it  rests  from  all  its  tu- 
mults and  fears.  Thoughts  of  peace  are  ever 
breathed  into  it  from  the  sight  of  the  bleeding 
sacrifice.  It  trembles  no  more  ;  for  it  sees 
that  that  which  made  it  tremble,  is  that  very 
thing  concerning  which  the  blood  of  Christ 
speaks  peace.  "  Their  sins  and  their  iniqui- 
ties will  1  remember  no  more."  Thus  it  is 
softened.  Its  first  terrors  upon  awakening 
could  not  be  called  a  softening.  But  now 
conscious  forgiveness  and  realized  peace  with 
God,  have  been  to  it,  like  the  mild  breath  of 
spring  to  the  ice  of  winter.  It  has  become 
soft  and  tender.  Yet  only  so  in  part. 

God's  desire,  however,  is  to  make  it  alto- 
gether tender.  He  wishes  it  to  be  sensitive  in 
regard  to  the  very  touch  of  sin,  and  earnest  in 
its  pantings  after  perfect  holiness.  To  effect 
ihis,  he  afflicts ;  and  affliction  goes  directly 


60  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

home  to  the  conscience.  The  death  of  the 
widow's  son  at  Sarepta,  immediately  awaken- 
ed her  conscience,  and  she  cried  to  the  pro- 
phet, "  O  man  of  God,  art  thou  come  to  call 
my  sin  to  remembrance  ?"*  So  God,  by  chas- 
tisement, lays  his  finger  upon  the  conscience, 
and  forthwith  it  starts  up  into  new  life.  We 
are  made  to  feel  as  if  God  had  now  come 
down  to  ITS  ;  as  if  he  were  now  looking  into 
our  hearts,  and  commencing  a  narrow  search. 
Moreover,  we  see,  in  this  affliction,  God's  esti- 
mate of  sin.  Not,  indeed,  the  full  estimate. 
No,  that  we  only  learn  from  the  sufferings  of 
Jesus.  But  still  we  gather  somewhat  of  his 
mind  regarding  sin,  from  this  new  specimen 
of  sin's  bitter  fruits.  This  teaches  the  con- 
science, by  making  the  knowledge  of  sin  a 
thing  of  experience, — an  experience  that  is 
deepening  with  every  new  trial.  "  If  they  be 
bound  in  fetters,  and  be  holden  in  cords  of 
affliction,  then  he  sheweth  them  their  work 
and  their  transgressions  that  they  have  ex- 
ceeded. He  openeth  also  their  ear  to  disci* 
pline,  and  commandeth  that  they  return  from 
iniquity."t 
In  these  last  days  how  little  is  there  of  ten- 

*  1  Kings  xvii.  18.  t  Job  xxxvi.  8,  9,  10. 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  61 

derness  of  conscience  !  The  world  seems  to 
know  nothing  of  it  save  the  name.  It  is  a 
world  without  a  conscience  !  And  how  much 
do  we  find  the  church  of  Christ  a  partaker  in 
the  world's  sins.  "  Evil  communications  cor 
rupt  good  manners."  It  is  sad  to  observe  in 
many  saints,  amid  much  zeal,  and  energy, 
and  love,  the  lack  of  a  tender  conscience. 
For  this  God  is  smiting  us,  and  will  smite 
us  yet  more  heavily,  until  he  has  made  it 
thoroughly  tender  and  sensitive  all  over ; 
u  hating  even  the  garments  spotted  by  the 
flesh."  This  training  of  the  conscience  is  a 
thing  of  far  greater  moment  than  many  deem 
it.  God  will  riot  rest  till  he  has  wrought  it. 
And  if  the  saints  still  continue  to  overlook  it ; 
if  they  will  not  set  themselves  in  good  earnest 
to  ask  for  it,  and  to  strive  againct  every  thing 
that  would  tend  to  produce  searedness  and  in- 
sensibility, they  may  yet  expect  some  of  the 
sharpest  strokes  that  the  hand  of  God  ha3 
ever  yet  administered. 

Such,  then,  is  the  family  discipline !  We 
have  seen  it  as  it  comes  forth  from  God,  ard 
we  have  seen  it  as  it  operates  upon  man. 
And  is  it  not  all  well  1  What  is  there  about 
it  that  should  disquiet  us,  or  call  forth  one 
6 


62  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

murmur,  either  of  the  lip  or  heart  ? 
which  opens  up  to  us  so  much  more  of  God, 
and  lets  us  more  fully  into  the  secrets  of  his 
heart,  must  be  blessed,  however  hard  to  bear. 
That  which  discovers  to  us  the  evils  within 
ourselves,  which  makes  us  teachable  and 
wise,  which  gives  to  the  stiff  wrill  flexibility 
and  obedience,  which  teaches  the  cold  heart  to 
love  and  expands  each  straitened  affection, 
which  melts  the  callous  conscience  into  ten- 
der sensitiveness, — which  trains  up  the  whole 
soul  for  the  glorious  kingdom,  tjmt  must  be 
precious  indeed. 

Besides  it  is  the  Father's  will ;  and  is  not 
this  enough  for  the  trustful  child  ?  Is  not 
chastisement  just  one  of  the  methods  by 
which  he  intimates  to  us  what  he  would  have 
us  to  be  ?  Is  not  his  way  of  leading  us  to  the 
kingdom,  the  safest,  surest,  shortest  way  ?  It 
is  still  the  paternal  hand  that  is  guiding  us. 
What  though  in  seeking  to  lift  us  up  to  a 
higher  level,  it  has  to  lay  hold  of  us  with  a 
firmer,  or  it  may  be  a  rougher  grasp  ?  It  is 
still  the  paternal  voice  "  that  speaketh  unto  us 
as  unto  children," — dear  children — only  in  a 
louder,  sharper  tone,  to  constrain  the  obedience 
of  his  too-reluctant  sons. 


THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE.  63 

One  remark  more  would  I  add  to  these  con- 
cerning this  family  discipline.  It  is  not  de- 
signed even  for  a  moment  to  separate  between 
them  and  their  God,  or  to  overshadow  their 
souls  with  one  suspicion  of  their  Father's 
heart.  That  it  has  done  so  at  times,  I  know ; 
but  that  it  ought  never  to  do  so  I  am  most 
firmly  persuaded.  Is  it  not  one  of  the  tests  of 
sonship,  and  shall  that,  without  which  we  are 
not  accounted  sons,  make  us  doubt  our  son- 
ship,  or  suspect  the  love  of  our  God  ?  That 
love  claims  at  all  times,  whether  in  sorrow  or 
in  joy,  our  simple,  full-hearted,  peaceful  con- 
fidence. It  is  at  all  times  the  same,  and  chas- 
tisement is  but  a  more  earnest  expression  of  its 
infinite  sincerity  and  depth.  Let  us  do  justice 
to  it,  and  to  him  out  of  whom  it  flows.  Let 
us  not  give  it  the  unworthy  treatment  which 
it  too  often  receives  at  our  thankless  hands. 
Let  us  beware  of  "  falling  from  grace,"  at  the 
very  time  when  God  is  coming  down  to  us,  to 
spread  out  before  us,  more  largely  than  before, 
all  the  treasures  of  his  grace.  "  We  have 
known  and  believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to 
us,"  is  to  be  our  song.  It  ought  always  to  be 
the  family-song !  And  shall  it  cease  or  sink 
low  at  the  very  time  when  it  ought  to  be 


64  THE    FAMILY    DISCIPLINE. 

loudest  and  strongest?  Should  not  trial  jusi 
draw  from  us  the  apostle's  triumphant  boast  ? 
"  Who  shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of 
Christ  ?  Shall  tribulation,  or  distress,  or  per- 
secution, or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or 
sword  ?  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are  more 
than  conquerors  through  him  that  loved  us ; 
for  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor  life, 
nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor 
things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height, 
nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be 
able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God, 
which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord."*  For  is 
it  not  just  when  we  are  brought  under  chas- 
tening, that  wre  enter  upon  the  realities  of  con- 
solation, the  certainties  of  love,  and  the  joyg 
of  heavenly  fellowship,  in  ways  unknown  and 
unimagined  before  ? 

*  Rom.  viii.  35. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE     FAMILY     RODS. 

WE  heai  of  the  "  rod  of  the  wicked,"  and  we 
are  told  that  it  '•  shall  not  rest  upon  the  lot  of 
the  righteous."*  This  may  mean  that  wicked 
men  are  God's  rod  for  chastening  his  people, 
and  that,,  though  permitted  to  light  upon 
them,  it  shall  not  rest  or  abide  upon  them,  but 
shall  be  destroyed,  as  was  the  Assyrian,  who 
was  used  by  God  as  the  "rod  of  his  anger"  for 
afflicting  Israel.  In  this  sense  it  gives  us  the 
blessed  assurance  that  the  triumph  of  the 
wicked  over  the  saints  is  short ;  that  their  de- 
vices and  oppressions  shall  last  but  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  that  the  church's  sufferings  at  their 
hands  shall  soon  be  over.  Wicked  men  may 
be  "  the  sword  of  God,"t  as  was  Pilate,  when 
he  lifted  the  sword  against  the  man  that  was 
Jehovah's  fellow,  or  as  Herod  was  when  he  be- 
headed John  in  prison;  but  that  sword  shall 
soon  be  broken.  A  wound  now  and  then  it 
may  inflict,  but  that  is  all.  It  neither  moves 

*  Ps.  cxxv.  3.  t  Ps.  xvii.  13. 

6* 


66  THE    FAMILY   RODS. 

nor  smites,  save  when  God  allows.  Nor  does 
it  come,  save  with  a  blessing  on  its  edge. 
"  They  mean  it  not  so,"  yet  God  means  it.  and 
that  is  enough  for  us.  He  makes  the  wrath 
of  man  to  praise  him.  "  There  shall  no  evil 
happen  to  the  just ;  when  he  shall  hear  of  evil 
tidings  he  shall  not  be  afraid." 

But  the  "  rod  of  the  wicked  "  may  mean  that 
rod,  with  which  he  smites  the  wicked  in  his 
fierce  anger.  In  this  sense  there  is  no  rod  fo.r 
the  righteous.  Such  a  rod  never  either  lights 
upon  them  nor  rests  upon  them.  Their  rod  is 
not  the  rod  of  the  wicked.  It  is  the  family 
rod.  They  have  done  with  wrath.  Over 
them  no  curse  can  ever  rest.  "  There  is  no 
condemnation  to  them  that  are  in  Christ 
Jesus."  The  rod  may  seem  to  speak  of  frowns 
and  anger  ;  but  it  is  only  a  seeming ;  there  is 
not  a  glance  of  vengeance  in  the  chastener's 
eye.  It  is  a  correcting  rod,  but  not  a  destroy- 
ing one.  Its  object  is  not  to  punish  but  to 
chasten  ;  not  to  injure  but  to  bless.  "  God  dis- 
tributeth  sorrows  in  his  anger,"*  but  these  are 
not  for  his  saints. 

God  has,  however,  not  one  rod  for  his  chil  • 
dren,  but  many.  For  each  child  he  has  a 

*  Job  xii.  17. 


THE    FAMILY    RODS.  67 

peculiar  rod,  and  at  different  times  he  uses 
different  rods.  It  will  be  profitable  for  us  to 
consider  what  those  are,  and  how  they  are  ap- 
plied. 

1.  Bodily  sickness.  The  body  operates  very 
powerfully  upon  the  soul  both  for  good  and 
evil.  In  what  way  or  to  what  extent  we  can- 
not tell.  Nor  do  I  wish  to  discuss  this  ques- 
tion at  all.  But,  knowing  how  the  soul  is 
acted  on  by  the  body,  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  one  of  God's  designs  in  sickness  is  to  ope- 
rate upon  the  soul  through  the  body.  We  are 
not  conscious  of  this ;  we  cannot  analyze  the 
process  ;  the  effects  are  hidden  from  view.  Yet 
it  does  seem  as  if  sickness  of  body  were  made 
to  contribute  directly  to  the  health  of  the  soul 
in  some  way  or  other  known  only  to  God. 
Hence  the  apostle  speaks  of  "  delivering  such 
an  one  to  Satan  for  the  destruction  of  the  flesh, 
that  the  spirit  may  be  saved  in  the  day  of  the 
Lord  Jesus."*  On  this  point,  however,  I  do 
not  dwell ;  only  it  would  be  well  for  us  to  con- 
sider whether  God  is  not  by  this  intimating  to 
us  the  exceeding  danger  of  pampering  the 
flesh :  for  the  weakening  of  the  flesh  does  help 
forward  the  strengthening  of  the  spirit ;  and 

*  1  Cor.  v.  5. 


68  THE    FAMILY    RODS. 

the  mortifying  of  our  members  which  are  upon 
the  earth, — the  crucifying  the  flesh  with  its 
affections  and  lusts, — does  tend  to  quicken  and 
invigorate  the  soul.  Apart,  however,  from  this, 
there  are  other  things  to  be  kept  in  view. 

Sickness  prostrates  us.  It  cuts  into  the  very 
centre  of  our  carnal  nature;  it  exposes  in  all 
their  deformity  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust 
of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life."  What  vanity 
is  seen  in  these  upon  a  sick  bed.  These  are 
our  three  idols ;  and  these,  sickness  dashes 
down  into  the  dust. 

Sickness  takes  us  aside  and  sets  us  alone 
with  God.  We  are  taken  into  his  private 
chamber,  and  there  he  converses  with  us  face 
to  face.  The  world  is  far  off,  our  relish  for  it 
is  gone,  and  we  are  alone  with  God.  Many 
are  the  words  of  grace  and  truth  which  he  then 
speaks  to  us.  All  our  former  props  are  struck 
away,  and  we  must  now  lean  on  God  alone. 
The  things  of  earth  are  felt  to  be  vanity;  man's 
help  useless.  Man's  praise,  and  man's  sympa- 
thy desert  us ;  we  are  cast  wholly  upon  God, 
that  we  may  learn  that  his  praise  and  his  sym- 
pathy are  enough.  "  If  it  was  not  for  pain," 
says  one,  "  I  should  spend  less  time  with  God. 
If  I  had  not  been  kept  awake  with  pain,  I 


THE    FAMILY    RODS.  69 

should  have  lost  one  of  the  sweetest  experi- 
ences I  ever  had  in  my  life.  The  disorder  of 
my  body  is  the  very  help  I  want  from  God ; 
and  if  it  does  its  work  before  it  lays  me  in  the 
dust,  it  will  raise  me  up  to  heaven."  It  was 
thus  that  Job  was  '-'chastened  upon  his  bed 
with  pain,  and  the  multitude  of  his  bones  with 
strong  pain,"  that  after  being  tried  he  might 
"  come  forth  as  gold."* 

Sickness  teaches  that  activity  of  service  is 
not  the  only  way  in  which  God  is  glorified.  / 
"  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 
Active  duty  is  that  which  man  judges  most 
acceptable  ;  but  God  shews  us,  that  in  bearing 
and  suffering  he  is  also  glorified.  Perhaps  we 
were  pursuing  a  path  of  our  own,  and  required 
to  be  arrested.  Perhaps  W7e  were  too  much 
harassed  by  a  bustling  world  and  needed  re- 
tirement, yet  could  find  no  way  of  obtaining  it 
till  God  laid  us  down,  and  drew  us  aside  into 
a  desert  place,  because  of  the  multitude  press- 
ing upon  us. 

No  one  of  the  family  rods  is  more  in  use 

than  this,  sometimes  falling  lightly  on  in  at 

other   times   more  heavily.     Let  us  kisr  the 

rod.     Let  us  open   our   mouth   wide  tp   the 

*  Job  xiiii.  10. 


70  THE    FAMILY    RODS. 

blessing,  seeking  so  to  profit  by  each  bodily 
ailment,  slight  or  severe,  that  it  may  bring  forth 
in    us  the    peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness. 
"  I  know,"  says  one,  "  of  no  greater  blessing 
than  health,  except  pain  and  sickness." 
•'    2.  Bereavement.     This  is  the  bitterest  of 
«  all  earthly  sorrows.     It  is  the  sharpest  arrow 
»  in  the  quiver  of  God.     To  love  tenderly  and 
deeply  and  then  to  part ;  to  meet  together  for 
the  last  time  on  earth ;   to  bid  farewell  for 
time  ;  to  have  all  past  remembrances  of  home 
«  and  kindred  broken  up ;  this  is  the  reality  of 
»  sorrow.     To  look  upon  that  face  that  shall 
,  smile  on  us  no  more  ;  to  close  those  eyes  that 
shall  see  us  no  more  ;   to  press  those  lips  that 
,  shall  speak  to  us  no  more ;  to  stand  by  the 
.  cold   side   of  father,   mother,    brother,   sister, 
friend,  yet  hear  no  sound  and  receive  no  greet- 
ing ;  to  carry  to  the  tomb  the  beloved  of  our 
hearts,  and  then  to  return  to  a  desolate  home 
with  a  blank  in  one  region  of  our  souls,  which 
shall  never  again  be  filled  till  Jesus  come  with 
all  his  saints;  this  is  the  bitterness  of  grief ;  this 
is  the  wormwood  and  the  gall ! 

It  is  this  rod  which  ever  and  anon  God  is 

laying  upon  us.     Nor  is  there  any  that  we 

.   need  more  than   this.    By  it  he  is  making 


THE    FAMILY   RODS.  71 

room  for  himself  in  hearts  that  had  been  filled 
with  other  objects  and  engrossed  with  other 
loves.  He  is  jealous  of  our  affection,  for  he 
claims  it  all  as  his  own  ;  and  every  idol  he  will 
utterly  abolish.  For  our  sakes  as  well  as  for 
his  own  he  can  suffer  no  rival  in  the  heart. 
Perhaps  the  joys  of  an  earthly  home  are  steal- 
ing away  our  hearts  from  the  many  mansions 
above.  God  breaks  in  upon  us  in  mercy,  and 
turns  that  home  into  a  wilderness.  Our  sin 
finds  us  out ;  we  mourn  over  it  and  seek  anew 
to  realize  our  heavenly  citizenship  and  set  out 
anew  upon  our  pilgrim  way  ;  alone  and  yet  not 
alone  for  the  Father  is  with  us.  Perhaps  we 
are  sitting  "  at  ease  in  Zion,"  comfortable  and 
contented,  amid  the  afflictions  of  a  suffering 
church  and  the  miseries  of  a  world  that  owns 
no  Saviour  and  fears  no  God.  Jehovah  speaks 
and  we  awake.  He  takes  to  himself  some 
happy  saint,  or  smites  to  the  dust  some 
wretched  sinner.  We  are  troubled  at  the 
stroke.  We  mourn  our  lethargy.  While  we 
slept,  a  fellow  saint  has  gone  up  to  be  with 
Christ,  and  a  fellow  sinner  has  gone  down  to 
be  with  the  devil  and  his  angels.  The  death 
of  the  one  stirs  us  up,  the  death  of  the  other 
solemnizes  and  overawes  us. 


72  THE    FAMILY    RODS. 

Thus  as  saint  after  saint  ascends  to  God, 
we  begin  to  feel  that  heaven  is  far  more  truly 
the  family  home  than  earth.  We  have  far 
more  brethren  above  than  we  have  below. 
And  each  bereavement  reminds  us  of  this.  It 
reminds  us  too  that  the  coming  of  the  Lord 
draweth  nigh,  and  makes  us  look  out  more 
wistfully  from  our  eastern  casement  for  the 
first  streaks  of  the  rising  dawn.  It  kindles  in 
us  strong  desires  for  the  day  of  happy  meet- 
ing in  our  Father's  house,  when  we  shall 
clasp  inseparable  hands  and  climb  in  company 
the  everlasting  hills.  Meanwhile  it  bids  us 
give  our  hearts  to  Jesus  only.  It  does  for  us 
what  the  departure  of  the  two  strangers  from 
heaven  did  to  the  disciples  on  the  mount  of 
transfiguration  ; — it  leaves  us  alone  with  Je- 
sus. It  turns  into  deep  experience  that  long- 
ing for  home  contained  in  the  apostle's  words, 
"having  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  with 
Christ  which  is  far  better." 

The  more  that  bereavement  transforms 
earth  into  a  desert,  the  more  are  our  desires 
drawn  up  to  heaven.  Our  treasures  having 
been  transferred  to  heaven,  our  hearts  must 
follow  them.  Earth's  hopes  are  smitten,  and 
we  are  taught  to  look  for  "  that  blessed  hope, 


THE    FAMILY   RODS.  73 

the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God  and 
our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ."  The  night  is  fall- 
ing and  the  flowers  are  folding  up  ;  but  as 
they  do  so  they  bid  us  look  upward  and  see 
star  after  star  coming  out  upon  the  darken- 
ing sky. 

3.  Adversity.  This  may  be  the  loss  of 
substance,  or  it  may  be  the  loss  of  our  good 
name,  or  it  may  be  the  falling  away  of 
friends,  or  it  may  be  the  wrath  of  enemies,  or 
it  may  be  the  disappointment  of  our  hopes ; 
these  are  what  are  meant  by  adversity.  But 
let  Job  tell  us  what  it  means.  "  Behold 
He  breaketh  down  and  it  cannot  be  built 
again,  he  shutteth  up  a  man  and  there  can 
be  no  opening."*  "  He  hath  made  me  weary ; 
thou  hast  made  desolate  all  my  company.  I 
was  at  ease,  but  he  hath  broken  me  asunder, 
he  hath  also  taken  me  by  my  neck  and  sha- 
ken me  to  pieces  and  set  me  up  for  his  mark ; 
his  archers  compass  me  about,  he  cleaveth  my 
reins  asunder  and  doth  not  spare  ;  he  break- 
eth me  with  breach  upon  breach,  he  runneth 
upon  me  like  a  giant ;  my  face  is  foul  with 
weeping,  and  on  my  eyelids  is  the  shadow  of 
death."t  "My  days  are  past,  my  purposes 

*  Job  xii.  14.          f  J°b  x*i.  7,  12,  13,  14, 16. 
7 


74  THE    FAMILY    RODS. 

are  broken  off,  even  the  thoughts  of  my 
heart."*  "  He  hath  fenced  up  my  way  that  I 
cannot  pass,  and  he  hath  set  darkness  in  my 
paths  ;  he  hath  stripped  me  of  my  glory  and 
taken  the  crown  from  my  head ;  he  hath 
destroyed  me  on  every  side  and  I  am  gone, 
and  mine  hope  hath  he  removed  like  a  tree ; 
he  hath  put  my  brethren  far  from  me  and 
mine  acquaintance  are  verily  estranged  from 
me."t  These  are  some  of  the  drops  in«the  bit- 
ter cup  of  adversity  that  was  given  to  that  pa- 
tient saint  to  drink.  And  they  are  recorded 
for  our  use,  on  whom  the  ends  of  the  world 
have  come,  and  to  whom  these  last  days  may 
perhaps  fill  a  cup  as  bitter  and  protracted  as 
his. 

,  Yet  let  us  count  it  all  joy  when  we  fall  into 
divers  tribulations,  knowing  this,  that  the  try- 
ing of  our  faith  worketh  patience :  but  "  let 
patience  have  her  perfect  work  that  we  may 
be  perfect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing."! 
We  are  cast  into  poverty,  but  how  can  we  be 
poor  so  long  as  Christ  is  rich  ;  and  is  not  this 
poverty  sent  to  make  vis  prize  his  unsearch- 
able riches  and  to  buy  of  him  the  gold  tried 
in  the  fire,  that  we  may  be  rich  ?  Our  gooc" 
*  Job  xvii.  11.  t  Job  xix,  8,  13.  {  James  i.  2. 


THT-    FAMILY    RODS.  75 

name  is  lost  through  slander  and  false  accusa- 
tion. The  finger  of  public  scorn  is  perhaps 
pointed  against  us,  and  wicked  men  are  ex- 
alted over  us  triumphing  in  our  reproach. 
Yet  have  we  not  the  approving  eye  of  God, 
and  is  it  not  enough  if  he  still  honors  us  and 
knows  our  innocence  ?  Let  our  good  name 
go  if  God  sees  fit  thus  to  humble  us.  We 
have  "  the  white  stone  and  in  the  stone  a  new 
name  written  which  no  man  knoweth  save  he 
that  receiveth  it."*  Friends  fall  off  and  ene- 
mies arise  :  false  brethren  turn  against  us,  and 
we  are  doomed  to  bear  the  revilings  and  per- 
secutions of  those  whom  we  have  never 
wronged  but  ever  loved.  But  the  friendship 
of  Jesus  is  still  ours.  No  earthly  disaster  or 
persecutor  can  ever  rob  us  of  that.  Nay,  the 
coldness  of  those  we  counted  on  as  tried  and 
true,  only  draws  us  the  closer  to  him,  the 
warmth  of  whose  love  knows  no  abatement 
nor  end.  Joseph  passed  thoroughly  this  trial 
and  the  Lord  set  him  upon  Pharaoh's  throne. 
Moses  passed  through  it  and  became  "  king  in 
Jeshurun."  Job  passed  through  it  and  was 
blessed  a  thousand  fold.  Daniel  passed 
'hrough  it  and  was  exalted  with  double  hon 

»  Rev.  ii.  17. 


76  THE    FAMILY    RODS. 

or.  Let  us  "  take  then  the  prophets  who 
have  spoken  to  us  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
for  an  example  of  suffering,  affliction,  and  of 
patience.  Behold,  we  count  them  happy 
which  endure.  Ye  have  heard  of  the  pa- 
tience of  Job,  and  have  seen  the  end  of  the 
Lord,  that  the  Lord  is  very  pitiful  and  of  ten- 
der rnercy."* 

Oftentimes  nothing  but  adversity  will  do  for 
us.  "  I  spake  unto  thee  in  thy  prosperity,  but 
thou  saidst,  I  will  not  hear ;  this  hath  been 
thy  manner  from  thy  youth,  that  thou  obey- 
edst  not  my  voice. "t  We  need  to  be  stripped 
of  every  earthly  portion  that  we  may  seek  en- 
tirely our  portion  in  Jehovah  himself.  We 
need  to  be  turned  out  of  a  home  on  earth, 
that  we  may  seek  a  home  in  heaven.  Earth's 
music  is  too  seducing,  and  takes  away  our  re- 
lish for  the  new  song.  God  must  either  hush 
it  or  take  us  apart  into  a  desert  place  that  we 
may  no  longer  be  led  captive  by  it,  but  may 
have  our  ear  open  only  to  the  heavenly  me- 
lody. We  cannot  be  trusted  with  too  full  a 
cup,  or  too  pleasant  a  resting-place.  We 
abuse  every  thing  that  God  has  given  us,  and 
prove  ourselves  not  trust-worthy  as  to  any  one 

*  James  v.  10*  t  Jer.  xxii.  21. 


THE    FAMILY    RODS.  77 

of  them.  Some  God  cannot  trust  with  health ; 
they  need  sickness  to  keep  them  low  and 
make  them  walk  softly  all  their  days.  They 
need  spare  diet,  lest  the  flesh  should  get  the 
mastery.  Others  he  cannot  trust  with  pros- 
perity ;  they  need  adversity  to  humble  them, 
lest,  like  Jeshurun,  they  should  wax  "fat  and 
kick."  Others  he  cannot  trust  with  riches ; 
they  must  be  kept  poor,  lest  covetousness 
should  spring  up  and  pierce  them  through 
with  many  sorrows.  Others  he  cannot  trust 
with  friends ;  they  make  idols  of  them,  they 
give  their  hearts  to  them  ;  and  this  interferes 
with  the  claims  of  Jehovah  to  have  us  alto- 
gether as  his  own. 

But  still,  in  all  this,  God  dealeth  with  us 
as  with  the  members  of  his  own  family.  Never 
for  a  moment  does  he  lose  sight  of  this.  Neither 
should  we.  So  that  when  these  things  over- 
take us,  when  we  are  thus  "judged,"  we  should 
feel  that  we  are  "  chastened  of  the  Lord, 'that 
we  should  not  be  condemned  with  the  world :" 
we  should  learn  not  merely  to  submit  to  the 
rod,  but  to  kiss  and  welcome  it,  not  merely  to 
acquiesce  in  chastisement,  but  to  "glory  in 
tribulation,  knowing  that  tribulation  worketh 
patience,  and  patience  experience,  and  expe- 
7* 


78  THE -FAMILY   RODS. 

rience  hope,  and  hope  maketh  not  ashamed." 
We  should  learn  not  merely  to  praise  God  in 
affliction,  but  to  praise  him  for  it.  We  should 
see  that  the  lot  of  the  afflicted  is  far  more  envia- 
ble than  that  of  him  who  is  "  let  alone ;"  and, 
instead  of  trembling  when  we  see  the  dark  cloud 
of  sorrow  coming  over  us,  we  should  tremble 
far  more  when  we  see  it  passing  off,  lest,  per- 
chance, that  which  came  charged  with  bless- 
ing to  us,  should,  through  our  stout-hearted- 
ness  and  unteachableness,  leave  us  callous  and 
unblest. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    TYPES. 

THE  ordinance  in  Israel  concerning  the 
meat-offering  of  the  first  fruits,  was  of  a  very 
peculiar  kind.  Thus  it  was  commanded,  "  If 
thou  offer  a  meat-offering  of  thy  first  fruits  unto 
the  Lord,  thou  shall  offer  for  the  meat-offering 
of  thy  first  fruits,  green  ears  of  corn  dried  by 
the  fire."* 

Christ  is,  we  know,  pre-eminently  the  first 
fruits.  It  is  he,  then,  who  is  specially  pre- 
figured by  these  green  ears  of  corn  dried  by 
the  fire.  In  this  "  corn,"  we  discern  the  type 
of  one  who  belongs  to  earth,  partaker  of  our 
very  nature.  It  springs  up  in  our  fields,  it  is 
nourished  by  our  soil,  it  is  watered  by  our 
showers,  it  is  ripened  by  our  sun.  So  was  it 
with  Jesus.  lie  was  truly  man,  one  of  us,  "  the 
Word  made  flesh,"  the  man  who  "drank  of  the 
brook  by  the  way." 

This  corn  was  to  be  plucked  when  green, 
and  then  dried  by  the  fire ;  not  in  the  ordinary 

*  Lev.  ii.  14. 


80  THE    TY^'ES. 

gradual  way  by  the  heat  of  the  sun.  It  was  to 
be  prematurely  ripened,  and  by  what  we  would 
call  unnatural  means,  the  exposure  to  artificial 
heat.  In  this  also,  we  see  Jesus,  the  man  of 
sorrows,  subjected  to  the  Father's  wrath,  the 
wrath  of  him  who  is  a  consuming  fire,  and 
withered  into  ripeness  before  his  time.  He  did 
not  come  to  his  grave  "in  a  full  age,  like  a 
shock  of  corn  in  its  season."*  He  did  not  grow 
up  to  manhood  in  the  calm  refreshing  sunshine 
of  Jehovah's  smile.  He  was  scorched  with 
fiery  heat,  within  and  without,  till  age  appeared 
upon  his  much-marred  visage,  while  as  yet  the 
greenness  of  his  strength  was  upon  him ;  so 
that  the  Jews,  looking  upon  his  wasted  form, 
spoke  of  him  as  one  who  had  well  nigh  reached 
his  fiftieth  year.t 

Such  is  the  view  he  gives  of  himself  in  the 
book  of  Psalms.  In  these  we  at  once  recog- 
nize the  "  green  ears  of  corn  dried  by  the  fire." 
For  thus  he  speaks,  "  My  strength  is  dried  up 
like  a  potsherd,  and  my  tongue  cleave th  to  my 
jaws,  and  thou  hast  brought  me  unto  the  dust 
of  death."]:  Again,  he  says,  "  Mine  eye  is  con- 
sumed with  grief,  yea,  my  soul  and  my  belly ; 
for  my  life  is  spent  with  grief,  and  my  years 

*  Job  v.  26.  t  John  viii.  57.  t  Ps.  xxii.  15. 


THE    TYPES.  81 

with  sighing;  my  strength  faileth,  my  bones 
are  consumed."*  Again,  we  hear  him  saying, 
"  Mine  eye  is  consumed  because  of  grief,  it 
waxeth  old  because  of  all  mine  enemies."! 
Such,  then,  was  Jesus  ;  withered  and  dried  up 
before  his  time  by  reason  of  the  sorrow  which 
he  endured  for  us. 

But  these  green  ears  dried  up  by  the  fire  are 
no  less  a  description  of  the  saints  than  of  their 
Lord.  Certainly  they  apply  to  him,  in  a  way 
such  as  they  never  can  apply  to  us.  Yet  still 
they  do  stand  forth  as  a  type  of  the  whole 
church,  who  are  also  called  like  Jesus,  "  the 
first  fruits."  All  the  members  of  his  body,  from 
the  beginning,  have  been  just  such  as  these 
dried  ears  of  green  corn.  Hear,  for  instance, 
one  of  them  speaking ;  "  I  am  like  a  bottle  in 
the  smoke ;"  or  again,  "  My  bones  waxed  old 
through  my  roaring  all  the  day  long ;  my  mois- 
ture is  turned  into  the  drought  of  summer."* 

By  such  an  emblem  as  this,  was  the  church's 
career  of  tribulation  set  before  Israel.  And  it 
is  most  interesting  for  us  to  look  at  our  trials 
in  the  light  of  so  expressive  a  figure.  Their 
object  is  to  ripen  us :  it  may  be  before  the  time ; 
it  may  be  in  a.  way  such  as  the  flesh  shrinks 

*  Ps.  xxxi.  9.          t  Ps.  vi.  7.  t  Ps.  xxxii.  4. 


82  THE    TYPES. 

from ;  but  still,  their  object  is  to  ripen  us.  The 
sorrows  that  compass  us  about  are  all  ripening 
our  graces,  as  well  as  withering  out  of  us  the 
green,  rank,  unripe  luxuriance  of  earth.  The 
heat  may  be  great,  but  it  shall  not  consume 
us ;  it  will  only  make  the  ripening  process  a 
speedier  one.  It  will  shorten  the  way  to  per- 
fect holiness  and  eternal  glory :  and  shall  we 
shrink  from  that  which  makes  the  process 
shorter  ? 

But  there  was  another  ordinance  in  Israel 
setting  forth  the  tribulation  of  the  church. 
The  mercy-seat  and  the  cherubim  were  to  be 
both  made  of  pure  gold,  "  of  beaten  work."* 
Now,  as  the  cherubim  were  doubtless  the 
symbols  of  redeemed  men,  the  church  of 
Christ,  this  type,  is  very  striking.  Both  the 
mercy-seat  and  the  cherubim  were  to  be  of  one 
piece,  for  "  both  he  who  sanctifieth  and  they 
who  are  sanctified  are  all  of  one."  They  are 
of  pure  gold,  and  this  denotes  their  exceeding 
preciousness.  They  are  made  of  "  beaten 
gold,"  to  intimate  the  process  through  which 
they  both  had  passed.  The  mercy-seat  was 
fashioned  into  shape,  and  made  after  the  pat- 
tern shewed  hi  the  mount,  by  the  stroke  of  the 
*  Ex.  xxv.  17,  18. 


THE    TYPES.  83 

hammer.  So  Jesus  was  "  made  perfect  through 
suffering."  In  like  manner  the  cherubim  were 
to  be  beaten  into  the  intended  shape  and  model. 
So  with  the  saints.  It  is  through  this  process 
that  they  must  pass,  and  it  is  thus  they  are 
brought  into  that  perfect  shape  which  God  has 
designed  for  them. 

What,  then,  is  the  process  through  which 
the  saints  are  passing  now,  but  just  this  7 
They  are  now  under  the  hammer  of  the  Spirit, 
that  by  this  they  may  be  fashioned  into  the 
likeness  of  cherubim,  which,  in  the  Book  of 
Revelation,  are  set'  before  us  as  the  upbearers 
of  Jehovah's  throne  and  glory,  as  well  as  the 
inheritors  thereof.  And  what  is  all  the  "  beat- 
ing" to  which  we  may  be  subjected,  when 
compared  with  the  glory  for  which  it  is  pre- 
paring us? 

There  is  another  figure  used  by  our  Lord  in 
speaking  of  his  church.  He  compares  her  to 
an  injured,  afflicted,  friendless  widow.  Widow- 
hood, then,  is  properly  the  church's  condition 
here.  And  this  is  her  grief.  Her  Lord  is  ab- 
sent, and  his  absence  is  one  of  her  bitterest 
trials.  It  forms  one  long-continued  sorrow.  It 
makes  such  a  blank  on  earth,  that  we  feel  as 
if  this  of  itself  were  grief  enough,  even  were 


84  THE    TYPES. 

there  none  besides.  And  were  the  church 
fully  to  realize  her  estate  of  widowhood,  until 
the  Lord  come,  she  would  find  in  this,  no 
doubt,  a  new  grief  to  which  she  was  blind  be- 
fore, but  a  grief  which  operates  with  most 
blessed  efficacy  in  sanctifying  her,  and  in 
keeping  her  apart  from  the  world. 

She  is  a  stranger  in  a  land  of  strangers. 
She  is  lonely  and  unfriended,  sitting  apart  from 
earthly  joy  and  fellowship.  He  whom  she 
loves  is  far  away.  This  separation  is,  as  a 
saint  of  old  expresses  it,  "  like  a  mountain  of 
iron  upon  her  heavy  heart."  She  longs  to  be 
with  him.  She  sighs  for  the  day  of  meeting. 
And  all  this,  though  sad,  is  both  sanctifying 
and  solemnizing.  It  is  a  daily  burden,  a  con- 
tinual chastening,  yet  it  is  well.  It  loosens 
from  earth.  It  lifts  up  to  heaven.  It  makes 
the  world  less  fascinating.  It  prepares  for  the 
inseparable  union: — the  meeting-time  —  the 
bridal-day. 

There  are  other  figures  given  us  of  the  suf- 
fering church.  But  let  these  suffice.  They 
will  help  us  to  understand  our  true  condition, 
and  to  expect  nothing  else  than  tribulation 
here.  No  strange  thing  is  happening  to  us, 
It  is  no  strange  thing  that  the  green  ears  of 


THE   TYPES.  85 

corn  should  be  dried  with  fire  It  is  no  strange 
thing  that  the  cherubim  should  be  made  of 
beaten  gold.  It  is  no  strange  thing  that,  in  the 
absence  of  the  bridegroom,  the  bride  should 
mourn 


: 

v, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    PROVING. 

THERE  are  no  beings  about  whom  we  make 
BO  many  mistakes  as  our  own  selves.  "The 
heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things ;"  and  be- 
sides this,  the  "  deceitfulness  of  sin "  is  un- 
searchable. So  that  when  the  deceitfulness  of 
our  heart  and  the  deceitfulness  of  sin  come 
together,  we  need  not  wonder  that  the  effect 
should  be  ignorance  of  ourselves. 

Besides,  we  are  unwilling  to  search.  We 
shrink  from  the  exposure  which  such  a  scru- 
tiny would  make.  No  doubt  the  consciousness 
of  being  forgiven  takes  away  much  of  this  re- 
luctance. We  are  not  so  unwilling  to  know 
the  worst,  when  we  are  assured  that  however 
hideous  the  pollution  thus  dragged  to  light,  it 
can  never  come  between  us  and  God.  For 
with  God  all  is  peace.  The  blood  that  sprinkles 
us  has  made  it  a  simple  impossibility  for  God 
ever  to  be  angry  with  us  again.  So  that  we 
come  to  realize,  in  some  degree,  the  blessedness 
of  the  man  whose  trangression  is  forgiven; 


THE    PROVING.  87 

our  spirit  is  "without  guile."  We  have  no  ob- 
ject now  in  concealing  anything  from  God  or 
ourselves.  We  become  open,  frank,  straight- 
forward. Still  the  search  is  a  painful  one,  and 
we  would  rather  postpone  it.  It  might  bring 
many  things  to  light  which  would  shock  and 
humble  us.  It  might  alarm  us  with  the  ex- 
tent of  the  evil  which  still  remains  in  us,  even 
though  it  could  not  bring  us  into  condemna- 
tion. Hence  we  are  slow  to  learn,  or  even  to 
inquire  into,  the  evil  that  cleaves  to  us  still. 

Moreover,  we  are  not  at  all  persuaded  that 
there  is  so  very  much  evil  in  us.  We  do  not 
know  ourselves.  Our  convictions  of  sin  have 
been  but  shallow,  and  we  are  beginning  to  ima- 
gine that  the  conflict  between  the  flesh  and  the 
spirit,  is  not  so  very  fierce  and  deadly  as  we 
had  conceived  it  to  be.  We  think  we  have 
got  quit  of  many  of  our  sins  entirely,  and  are 
in  a  fair  way  for  speedily  getting  quit  of  all 
the  rest.  The  depths  of  sin  in  us  we  have 
never  sounded  ;  the  number  of  our  abomina- 
tions we  have  never  thought  of  marking.  We 
have  been  sailing  smoothly  to  the  kingdom, 
and  perhaps  at  times  were  wondering  how 
our  lot  should  be  so  different  from  the  saints 
of  old. 


88  THE   PROVING. 

We  thought  too  that  we  had  got  the  better 
of  many  of  our  corruptions.  The  old  man 
was  crucified.  It  seemed  dead,  or  at  least 
feigned  itself  to  be  so  in  order  to  deceive  us. 
Our  lusts  had  abated.  Our  tempers  had  im- 
proved. Our  souls  were  calm  and  equable. 
Our  mountain  stood  strong,  and  we  were  say- 
ing "  we  shall  never  be  moved."  The  victory 
over  self  and  sin  seemed,  in  some  measure, 
won.  Alas,  we  were  blind  !  We  were  pro- 
foundly ignorant  of  our  hearts. 

Well,  the  trial  came.  It  swept  over  us  like 
a  cloud  of  the  night,  or  rather  through  us  like 
an  iceblast,  piercing  and  chilling  us  to  the  vi- 
tals. Then  the  old  man  within  us  awoke, 
and,  as  if  in  response  to  the  uproar  without, 
a  fiercer  tempest  broke  loose  within.  We  felt 
as  if  the  four  winds  of  heaven  had  been  let 
loose,  to  strive  together  upon  the  great  deep 
within  us.  Unbelief  arose  in  its  former 
strength.  Rebelliousness  raged  in  every  re- 
gion of  our  soul.  Unsubdued  passions  re- 
sumed their  strength.  We  were  utterly  dis- 
mayed at  the  fearful  scene.  But  yesterday, 
and  this  seemed  impossible.  Alas,  we  know 
not  the  strength  of  sin,  nor  the  evil  of  our 


f: 


THE    PROVING.  89 

hearts,  till  God  thus  allowed  them  to  break 
loose. 

!lt  was  thus  he  dealt  with  Israel ;  and  for 
,his  end  he  led  them  into  the  desert.  "  The 
Lord  thy  God  led  thee  forty  years  in  the  wil- 
derness to  humble  thee,  and  to  prove  thee,  and 
to  know  what  was  in  thine  heart."*  Their 
desert-trials  put  them  to  the  proof.  And  when 
thus  proved,  what  iniquity  was  found  in 
them  !  What  sin  came  out  which  had  lain 
hidden  and  unknown  before  !  The  trial  did 
not  create  the  evil ;  it  merely  brought  out 
what  was  there  already,  unnoticed  and  unfelt, 
like  a  torpid  adder.  Then  the  heart's  deep 
fountains  were  broken  up,  and  streams  of  pol- 
lution came  rushing  out,  black  as  hell.  Re- 
bellion, unbelief,  fretfulness,  atheism,  idola- 
try, self-will,  self-confidence,  self-pleasing, — all 
burst  out  when  the  blast  of  the  desert  met 
them  in  the  face,  and  called  Egypt  to  remem- 
brance with  its  luxurious  plenty.  Thus  they 
were  proved. 

Even  so  it  is  with  the  saints  still.  God 
chastens  them  that  he  may  draw  forth  the 
evil  that  is  lying  concealed  and  unsuspected 
within.  The  rod  smites  us  on  the  tenderest 

*  Deut.  vii.  2. 
8* 


00  THE  PROVING. 

part,  and  we  start  up  in  a  moment  as  if  in 
arms  against  God.  The  flesh,  the  old  man,  is 
cut  to  the  quick,  and  forthwith  arouses  itself, 
displaying,  of  a  sudden,  much  of  its  former 
strength.  When  it  was  asleep  we  did  not 
know  its  power,  but  now  that  it  has  been  wa- 
kened up,  its  remains  of  strength  appal  us. 

It  is  not  till  the  sea  is  "  troubled,"  that  "  its 
waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt."  When  all 
was  calm,  there  seemed  naught  but  purity  per- 
vading it,  and  ripple  folded  over  ripple  in 
the  still  brightness  of  its  transparent  green. 
But  the  winds  break  loose,  the  tempest  stirs 
its  lowest  depths,  and  then  all  is  changed. 
Thus  we  see  it  in  the  saints.  When  calamity 
breaks  over  them  like  a  tempest,  then  the  hid- 
den evils  of  their  hearts  awake.  Sins  scarcely 
known  before,  display  themselves.  The  heart 
pours  out  its  wickedness.  Hard  thoughts  of 
God  arise.  Atheistical  murmurings  break 
out,  and  refuse  to  be  restrained.  Question- 
ings both  of  his  wisdom  and  of  his  love  are 
muttered ;  yea,  how  often  do  they  assume  a 
more  explicit  form,  and  we  ask  if  God  be  so 
loving  and  wise,  why  is  it  thus  ?  We  could 
not  have  expected  such  treatment  at  his  hands. 
Distrust  and  unbelief  assume  the  mastery, 


THE   PROVING.  91 

and  we  refuse  to  acquiesce  in  his  will.  It 
seems  hard  to  be  smitten  so  severely,  and  laid 
so  low.  For  a  while  it  seems  as  if  the  heart 
were  determined  to  think  evil  thoughts  of  God 
and  never  to  think  well  of  him  again.  And, 
though  a  calm  ensues  and  we  become  both 
ashamed  and  terrified  at  our  rebelliousness, 
still  the  heart  has  given  forth  its  pollution. 
We  have  learned  its  unsearchable  depths  of 
evil.  We  are  led  on  the  one  hand  into  deeper 
views  of  our  own  amazing  and  incredible  vile- 
ness  ;  and  on  the  other  into  fuller  discoveries 
of  the  abounding  grace  of  God.  We  learn  to 
prize  more  the  open  fountain,  and  we  betake 
ourselves  anew  for  covering  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  Righteous  One. 

It  is  remarkable  that  when  the  saints  of  old 
were  tried  and  proved,  there  was  found  in 
them  not  only  evil,  but  the  very  evil  we 
should  least  of  all  have  anticipated.  We 
should  have  said  for  instance  of  Noah,  he  is 
one  whose  sobriety  and  self-restraint  will  be 
carried  with  him  to  his  grave.  He  stood  alone 
amid  a  luxurious,  sensual,  intoxicated  world, 
condemning  their  lasciviousness  and  revelry. 
Yet  no  sooner  is  he  placed  in  circumstances 
of  temptation  than  he  falls.  Noah  becomes 


9'2  THE      ROVING. 

drunken  !  Again  Abraham  stands  out  pre- 
eminent for  faith  and  courage  ;  yet,  when  he 
goes  to  Egypt  and  Gerar,  his  faith  gives  way 
and  he  utters  lies  through  fear.  Lot  had 
withstood  all  the  sensuality  and  filthiuess  of 
Sodom,  and  his  righteous  soul  mourned  over 
their  abominations  ;  yet,  scarce  is  he  delivered 
from  the  city's  destruction,  than  he  falls  into 
drunkenness  and  lust,  equal  to  that  of  the 
cities  that  had  been  consumed.  Job,  though 
marked  for  his  patience,  gave  way  to  impa- 
tience in  the  day  of  trial.  Moses,  the  meekest 
of  all  men,  displayed  his  auger,  and  "  spake 
unadvisedly  with  his  lips."  David  was  one 
of  the  bravest  that  ever  fought  the  battles  of 
the  Lord  in  Israel,  and  he  had  gone  out 
against  Goliath  with  a  sling  and  a  stone,  yet 
when  he  fled  before  Saul  and  came  to  king 
Achish  at  Gath,  his  courage  is  gone,  and  he 
feigns  himself  a  madman  through  fear  of  his 
enemies.  Elijah  had  stood  before  kings  with- 
out trembling,  to  pronounce  the  sentence  of 
judgment,  to  shut  up  the  heavens,  and  to 
wield  the  sword  of  Jehovah's  vengeance, 
though  alone  amid  tens  of  thousands.  Yet  he 
flies  before  a  woman's  threat,  he  gives  up  all  for 
lost  and  requests  to  die.  Ezekiel,  whose  char- 


THE    PROVING.  93 

acter  shines  out  as  one  of  singulai  holiness 
and  obedience,  yet  records  against  himself  a 
strange  instance  of  unsubmissiveness,  when 
sent  by  God  on  an  errand  of  judgment  to 
Israel :  "  I  went  in  bitterness,  in  the  heat 
(marg.  hot  anger)  of  my  spirit,  but  the  hand 
of  the  Lord  was  strong  upon  me."*  Peter's 
attachment  to  his  Lord  is  one  of  his  peculiar 
characteristics,  yet  it  was  Peter  that  denied 
him.  John  was  the  disciple  who  seems  to 
have  been  likest  his  master  in  gentleness  and 
love,  yet  it  was  John  who  wanted  to  call  down 
fire  from  heaven  upon  the  Samaritan  village. 
Lord,  what  is  man  !  And  what  is  a  human 
heart? — the  heart,  even  of  thy  saints  when 
proved,  and  held  up  to  view !  "  O  heart, 
heart,"'  said  John  Berridge  of  himself,  "  what 
art  thou '}  A  mass  of  fooleries  and  absurdities, 
the  vainest,  wickedest,  craftiest,  foolishest  thing 
in  nature."  What  deep-hidden  evil,  what  sel- 
fishness, what  pride,  what  harsh  tempers,  what 
worldiiness  come  out  in  a  moment,  wiien  the 
stroke  goes  deep  into  the  soul !  How  long  Job 
remained  stedfast,  holding  fast  his  integrity  and 
confidence  in  G<~d.  Stroke  after  stroke  laid 
him  prostrate,  yet  he  gave  glory  to  God  in  the 
*  Ezek.  iii.  14. 


94  T*TF  rvr>vif.F-- 

midst  of  desolation  and  sorrow.  The  inner 
circle  of  self  had  net  been  reached.  But  when 
a  loathsome  disease  drove  him  to  the  dung- 
hill, and  his  friends  rose  up  against  him,  and 
addressed  him  as  a  man  marked  out  by  God 
as  guilty,  then  his  faith  and  patience  gave 
way.  The  very  centre  of  his  being  had  been 
reached  and  probed ;  and  forth  came  the 
stream  of  impatience  and  unbelief.  It  takes  a 
sharp  arrow,  and  a  strong-drawn  bow  to  pierce 
into  the  inmost  circle ;  yet  God  in  kindness 
spares  not.  The  seat  of  the  disease  must  be 
reached,  and  its  real  nature  brought  out  to  the 
light. 

/~  Of  all  the  evils  which  are  thus  drawn  forth 
from  the  heart  of  the  saint ;  the  worst,  and  yet 
the  commonest,  are  hard  thoughts  of  God.  Yet 
who  would  have  expected  this  1  Once,  indeed, 

(in  our  unbelieving  days  our  souls  were  full  of 
these.  Our  thoughts  of  God  were  all  evil  to- 
gether. When  the  Holy  Spirit  wrought  in  our 
hearts  the  mighty  change,  the  special  thing 
which  he  accomplished  was  teaching  us  to 
think  well  of  God,  shewing  us  how  little  he 
had  deserved  these  hard  thoughts  from  us,  how 
much  he  had  deserved  the  opposite.  The 
i  wondrous  tale  of  manifold  love,  which  the  Gos- 


THE    PROVING.  95 

pel  brought  to  us,  won  our  hearts  and  made 
us  ashamed  of  our  distrust.  We  said  then, 
surely  we  shall  never  think  ill  of  God  again.  . 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
him."  We  thought  that  affliction  would  only 
make  us  cleave  to  him  the  more.  Yet  scarcely 
does  he  begin  to  smite  us,  than  our  former 
thoughts  return.  We  wonder  why  he  should 
treat  us  thus.  We  suspect  his  love  and  faith- 
fulness. Our  hold  6f  his  grace  seems  to  loosen, 
as  if  at  times  it  would  wholly  give  way. 

We  are  like  Jonah  with  his  withered  gourd. 
We  think  we  do  well  to  be  angry,  even  unto  / 
death.  God  does  not  seem  the  same  loving 
God  as  when  first  we  believed  and  tasted  for- 
giveness from  his  gracious  hands.  Alas,  the 
treachery  of  our  hearts  has  been  at  length  dis- 
covered. We  find  that  we  were  not  serving 
God  for  naught. 

May  he  not  expostulate  with  us  and  ask  us, 
"Dost  thou  well  to  be  angry?"  Would  not 
this  question  close  our  lips  for  ever?  Dost 
thou  well  to  be  angry  01  desponding,  when 
God  hath  forgiven  all  thine  iniquities  and  re- 
moved them  from  thee,  as  far  as  the  east  ia 
from  the  west?  Dost  thou  well  to  be  angry 
wheu  thou  art  delivered  from  the  wrath  to 


96  THE    PROVING. 

come,  as  well  as  from  a  present  evil  world,  and 
safely  lodged  within  the  clefts  of  the  rock  with 
Jesus  thy  companion  there  ?  Dost  thou  well 
to  be  angry  when  the  Father's  love  is  t  hine 
assured  portion,  and  the  kingdom  of  the  Son 
thine  inheritance  for  ever  ?  Dost  thou  well  to 
be  angry  when  the  night  is  far  spent  and  the 
day  is  at  hand,  when  the  distant  eastern  clouds 
are  taking  on  their  rosy  fringes,  and  the  day- 
star  is  preparing  to  arise?* 

*  God's  chastened  ones  will  find  many  precious  words  of 
counsel  and  consolation  in  Samuel  Rutherford's  letters. 
Having  been  tried,  he  knew  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season 
to  the  weary.  Hear  some  of  them — "  I  wonder  many  times 
that  ever  a  child  of  God  should  have  a  sad  heart,  considering 
what  the  Lord  is  preparing  for  them." — "  When  we  shall 
come  home,  and  enter  into  the  possession  of  our  brother's 
fair  kingdom,  and  when  our  heads  shall  find  the  weight  of 
the  eternal  crown  of  glory,  and  when  we  shall  look  back  to 
pains  and  sufferings,  then  shall  we  see  life  and  sorrow  to  be 
less  than  one  step  or  stride  from  a  prison  to  a  glory,  and  that 
our  little  inch  of  time-suffering  is  not  worthy  of  our  first 
night's  welcome  home  to  heaven."  "However  matters  go, 
the  worst  shall  be  a  tired  traveller,  and  a  joyful  and  sweet 
welcome  home,'- 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    REBUKING. 

IT  is  worth  while  noticing  the  word  which 
is  used  in  the  two  well-known  passages  which 
speak  of  chastisement,  "Neither  faint  when 
thou  art  rebuked  of  him."*  "  As  many  as  1 
love,  I  rebuke  and  chasten. "t  A  little  inquiry 
into  its  meaning,  and  a  little  comparing  of 
texts  will  help  to  set  it  in  its  true  light. 

It  is  the  same  word  used  in  Matt,  xviii.  15 : 
"  If  thy  brother  trespass  against  thee,  go  and 
tell  him  his  fault."  It  is  the  same  word  used 
in  Luke  iii.  19,  when  John  is  said  to  have  re- 
proved Herod.  It  is  the  same  word  used  in 
John  xvi.  8,  "  When  He  cometh,  He  will  re- 
prove the  world  of  sin."  We  learn,  then,  from 
these  expressions,  that  rebuke  is  not  simply 
some  stern  word  or  frown,  implying  displeasure 
on  the  part  of  God,  but  such  a  frown  as  "  tells 
us  our  faults  " — such  a  frown  as  reproves  or 
convinces  us  of  sin.  It  is  God's  way  of  point- 
ing out  what  he  sees  to  be  amiss  in  us,  of  call- 

*  Heb  iii.  5.  f  RGV-  &•  W- 

9 


98  THE    REBUKING. 

ing  our  attention  to  it  as  a  thing  which  dis- 
pleases him,  and.  on  account  of  which,  if  not 
put  away,  he  must  certainly  deal  with  us  in 
chastisement. 

The  word  rebuke  seems  to  imply  something 
more  gentle  than  chastisement.  And  it  is  of 
some  importance  to  consider  it  in  this  light.  I 
know  not  a  better  illustration  of  it  than  Christ's 
address  to  the  churches  of  Asia.  The  especial 
preciousness  of  these  lies  in  this,  that  they 
show  us  what  the  heart  of  Christ  is  when  re- 
proving. What  a  discovery  do  they  give  us  of 
this !  Let  us  hear  him  addressing  them.  Thus 
he  rebukes  the  angel  of  the  church  of  Ephe- 
sus : — "  Nevertheless,  I  have  somewhat  against 
thee,  because  thou  hast  left  thy  first  love  ;  re- 
member, therefore,  from  whence  thou  art  fallen, 
and  repent."  Thus  he  rebukes  the  church  of 
Pergamos  :  "  I  have  a  few  things  against  thee, 
because  thou  hast  there  them  that  hold  the 
doctrine  of  Balaam ;  repent,  or  else  I  will  come 
unto  thee  quickly,  and  will  fight  against  thee 
with  the  sword  of  my  mouth."  In  like  man- 
ner we  might  qucte  his  other  rebukes  to  the 
other  churches  as  illustrations  of  our  meaning. 
But  these  are  enough.  They  show  the  gen- 
tleness of  the  reprover  both  in  the  manner  and 


THE    REBUKING.  99 

the  language.  They  aie  faithful,  indeed,  but 
how  delicate,  how  tender,  how  mild  !  They 
point  out  what  is  amiss  with  all  distinctness 
and  directness,  yet  in  a  manner  the  most  fitted 
to  win,  and  in  language  the  least  likely  to 
offend.  He  begins  each  of  them  by  making 
most  gracious  mention  of  the  past  services  and 
excellent  deeds  of  the  angel  of  the  church,  as 
if  desirous  to  show  how  willing  he  was  to 
praise,  in  so  far  as  he  could,  and  how  unwilling 
to  blame,  save  when  it  could  not  be  avoided. 
In  listening  to  this  voice  speaking  from  hea- 
ven, we  seem  to  hear  the  same  meek  and 
lowly  one  that  once  spake  on  earth,  in  the 
house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee.  Wishing  to  re- 
prove him  for  his  evil  thoughts  of  the  woman 
who  stood  behind  the  Lord,  and  washed  his 
feet  with  her  tears,  he  began  thus  mildly  hig 
rebuke,  "  Simon,  I  have  somewhat  to  say  unto 
thee." 

Yet  while  the  rebuke  of  God  is  thus  mild 
and  loving,  it  is  both  faithful  and  solemn.  It 
is  faithful,  for  it  hides  nothing  from  us.  Its 
tone  is  soft,  yet  the  words  are  full  of  meaning. 
They  are  quite  explicit  in  their  condemnation 
of  the  sin  perceived  in  us.  And  the  rebuke 
of  Jehovah  is  a  solemn  thing.  It  is  not  the 


100  THE    REBUKINS. 

rebuke  of  wrath,  for  that  has  passed  awajj 
yet  it  makes  us  stand  in  awe.  The  rebuke 
of  love  is  as  solemn  a  thing  as  the  rebuke  of 
wrath.  A  parent's  rebuke  is  much  to  a  loving 
child,  how  much  more  is  the  rebuke  of  our 
God — the  God  who  made  heaven  and  earth. 

Many  are  the  rebukes  which  he  adminis- 
ters. Some  of  them  are  lighter  and  others 
heavier.  Yet  in  both  he  is  laying  his  finger 
upon  sin,  and  intimating  distinctly  his  desire 
that  we  should  turn  from  it.  To  the  former 
kind  I  fear,  we  oftentimes  give  but  little  heed. 
The  touch  of  transient  pain,  a  brief  illness,  a 
slight  indisposition,  a  passing  weakness,  some 
common  domestic  vexation,  some  trivial  casu- 
alty, some  few  days  parting  from  one  we  love, 
some  unkind  word  where  least  we  looked  for 
it,  some  disappointment  or  annoyance,  these 
are  all  fatherly  rebukes  of  the  lighter  and 
more  gentle  kind.  They  are  not  so  sharp  as 
many  others,  yet  they  are  not  the  less  on  that 
account  the  indications  of  a  father's  will. 
They  are  apt  to  be  overlooked,  for  they  are 
slighter  and  commoner  than  many,  and  do 
not  force  themselves  upon  our  notice.  Yet 
surely  it  is  worth  our  while  to  point  them  out, 


THE    I.EBUKING.  101 

and  to  make  them  the  subject  of  special  and 
prolonged  consideration. 

f»  It  is  difficult  to  understand  why  we  should 
so  much  undervalue  them.  To  one  who 
weighs  them  aright,  they  cannot  but  seem 
peculiarly  precious  and  affecting.  Their  fre 
quency  makes  us  familiar  with  them,  and  on 
this  account  we  slight  them.  Sad  and 
strange  !  Does  not  their  frequency  show  the 
unwearied  pains  that  God  is  taking  with  us, 
giving  us  precept  upon  precept,  line  upon 
line  ?  Should  that  very  thing  in  them  which 
displays  God's  untiring  earnestness,  his  assidu- 
ous vigilance  and  intense  anxiety  for  our 
welfare,  tempt  us  to  disregard  such  dealings  ? 
Their  mildness,  also,  as  well  as  their  fre- 
quency, tends  to  make  us  undervalue  them. 
Unaccountable  perversity  !  They  are  so  slight 
and  so  gentle  ;  therefore,  they  are  not  to  be 
owned  as  the  laying  on  of  a  father's  hand  ! 
Had  they  been  sharper  and  heavier  they  would 
have  been  recognized  as  such,  but  being  so 
tender  they  are  hardly  worthy  of  our  serious 
notice  ! 

On  this  point  I  am  persuaded,  an  admoni- 
tion is  much  needed,  not  merely  by  a  heedless 
world,  but  even  by  the  saints  of  God.     The 
9* 


102  THE    REBUKING. 

point  adverted  to  is  a  much  neglected  one, 
and  yet  it  is  one  which  every  day's  events 
press  upon  our  notice.  A  raging  fever  pros- 
trates us.  Our  strength  gives  way.  Our  life 
is  despaired  of,  Then  we  say,  this  is  the 
finger  of  God.  This  is  his  rebuke.  But  we 
take  a  slight  cold,  or  sustain  some  slight 
injury,  there  is  no  danger,  and  perhaps  no 
piercing  pain  ;  then,  alas  !  we  do  not  own  the 
doing  of  God  ;  or,  at  the  most,  we  own  it 
vaguely  and  carelessly.  The  gentleness  of 
the  infliction  makes  us  feel  at  liberty  to  under- 
value it,  and  to  forget  it  as  coming  from  God. 
Ah  !  it  is  thus  that  we  "  despise  his  chas- 
tenings." 

And  what  is  the  consequence  ?  We  draw 
upon  ourselves  severer  chastisement.  We 
provoke  God  to  visit  us  with  heavier  blows. 
We  compel  him  to  chastise  by  our  heedless- 
ness  of  his  rebuke.  We  make  bitter  trial 
absolutely  necessary. 

Let  us  never  forget  this.  It  is  our  own 
frowardness  and  negligence  that  impose  a 
necessity  for  the  infliction  of  suffering.  Afflic- 
tion is  not  a  desirable  thing  in  itself.  It 
would  be  better  could  it  be  avoided.  God 
afflicts  not  willingly.  But  we  constrain  him. 


THE   REBUKING.  103 

Many  a  sorrow  we  might  escape  were  we  not 
so  heedless  and  unbelieving. 

Most  slowly  and  reluctantly  does  God 
stretch  out  his  hand  to  chasten.  For  a  while 
he  wounds  most  slightly  and  mildly.  If  we 
may  speak  after  the  manner  of  men,  he  just 
hints  or  whispers  his  reproof.  He  is  most 
unwilling  to  employ  sharpness.  He  tarries 
long.  He  lingers  on  his  way  to  smite.  He 
tries  other  means.  He  sends  milder  trials 
first,  that  we  may  be  led  to  self-searching  and 
repentance,  and  that  he  may  be  spared  the 
necessity  of  inflicting  a  heavier  blow.  But 
we  trifle  with  these  ;  and  then,  at  last,  he  lifts 
up  his  voice  and  speaks  in  a  way  which  can 
neither  be  overlooked  nor  mistaken.  How 
sad  that  we  should  thus  so  stubbornly  persist 
in  filling  the  cup  of  sorrow  which  God  would  x 
fain  have  spared  us  ! 

Let  us  open  our  ears  to  the  rebuke  of  God. 
His  "  still  small  voice"  should  be  as  effectual 
as  the  lightning  or  the  earthquake.  Let  us 
learn  the  meaning  and  use  of  slighter  trials, 
Let  us  count  no  touch  of  pain  or  grief,  how- 
ever mild  or  transient,  too  insignificant  for  our 
most  serious  thought.  This  would  save  us 
much  It  would  teach  us  many  a  blessed 


104  THE    REBUKING. 

lesson  in  an  easy,  pleasant  way.  Every 
trouble,  however  light,  comes  fragrant  with 
blessing.  Shall  we  then  overlook  it  or  thrust 
it  away  ?  It  is  a  new  opportunity  of  getting 
nearer  God,  and  learning  more  of  his  love. 
How  foolish,  how  sinful,  to  disregard  it !  God 
is  saying  to  us,  improve  this  light  cross,  and 
you  will  not  need  a  heavier.  But  we  are 
deaf.  And,  oh,  how  much  this  deafness 
costs  us  ! 

It  is  not,  however,  our  deafness,  under  light 
troubles  only,  that  draws  on  us  the  heavier. 
We  are  too  heedless  even  of  these  heavier 
ones,  and  this  prepares  for  us  heavier  still. 
The  easy  way  in  which  some  get  over 
trials  is  very  sad.  There  is  a  vehement  out- 
burst ,pf  feeling  at  the  moment ;  and  occa- 
sionally there  may  be<  a  recurrence  of  this  for 
some  time  after  the  calamity  has  spent  itself, 
but,  with  the  exception  of  such  fits  of  grief, 
there  is  nothing  like  laying  the  trial  to  heart. 
To  lay  a  visitation  solemnly  to  heart,  is  some- 
thing very  different  from  indulging  in  wild 
bursts  of  grief.  Hence  it  will  generally  be 
found  that  those  who  give  way  to  these,  are 
often,  during  the  intervals  between  them,  very 
easy  and  mirthful.  This  unequal  pressure  of 


THE    REBUKING.  105 

trial  is  not  only  in  itself  injurious  to  the  soul, 
but  it  neutralizes  the  right  influence  of  trial, 
and  thus  renders  necessary  another  and  more 
stunning  blow. 

Hence  it  is  that  we  so  often  observe,  that 
when  God  takes  up  a  case  in  earnest,  if  any 
one  may  so  speak,  it  is  either  by  a  succession 
of  strokes,  following  each  other  closely,  or  else 
by  a  long-protracted  sorrow.    And  it  is  we  who 
"procure  these  things  unto  ourselves,  in  that 
we  have  forsaken  the  Lord  our  God,  whom  he 
led  by  the  way."*     Billow  after  billow  breaks  ,, 
over  us,  but  we  ourselves  have  called  forth  the    ) 
storm  ;  and  it  is  our  perversity  that  is  keeping 
it  awake ;  nay,   perhaps,   raising   the   surges     \ 
higher,  till  we   are  well  nigh  overwhelmed.     / 
Had  we   but  yielded   to   God   at  once,   and 
allowed  him  to  bless  us  as   he  desired,  one 
wave  might  have  been  enough,  and  ere  even- 
ing the  storm-breeze  might  have  died  away. 

Yet  still,  even  in  this  there  is  consolation. 
Our  foolishness  is  making  our  voyage  a  rough 
one,  but  it  is  homeward  still.  All  these  many 
blasts  and  billows  are  towards  Canaan,  not 
away  from  it,  and  sometimes,  from  their  top- 
most crest,  we  get  a  brighter  glimpse  of  our 
*  Jerem.  ii.  17. 


106  THE  KE"r:rTV':-. 

eternal  heritage,  than  from  the  level  calm  of 
more  unruffled  days.  It  brightens  the  black- 
ness of  the  tempest,  and  disarms  it  of  many  a 
terror,  to  know  that  each  blast,  however  fierce, 
is  bearing  us  homeward,  that  each  billow, 
however  rough,  is  carrying  us  more  swiftly  to 
our  desired  haven. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    PURIFYING. 

CHASTISEMENT  supposes  SIN.  Suffering 
does  not,  for  Jesus  suffered, — nay,  "learned 
obedience  by  the  things  which  he  suffered." 
But  chastisement  does.  Some  have,  indeed, 
applied  the  word  chastisement  to  Jesus  also, 
for  he  was  "  made  perfect  through  suffering  ;n 
and  in  the  sense  of  passing  through  discipline, 
that  he  might  know  by  experience  our  condi- 
tion here,  and  be  seen  as  the  doer  of  the  Fa- 
ther's will,  the  man  that  "  pleased  not  himself," 
— in  this  sense  his  sorrows  might  be  called  by 
that  name.  Yet  in  no  other.  For  although 
tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,  it  was 
without  sin.  But  in  our  case  it  is  altogether 
different.  It  is  sin  in  us  that  draws  down  the 
infliction,  just  as  the  rod  attracts  the  lightning 
from  the  clouds. 

Yet  it  is  all  forgiven  sin.  In  looking  to  the 
cross  we  found  forgiveness.  As  believers  in 
Jesus,  we  "  have  no  more  conscience  of  sin." 
Still  the  flesh  remains.  The  old  man  is  ever 


108  THE  PURIFYING. 

at  work  within  us.  "  Iniquities  prevail  against 
us ;"  and  though  we  know  that  they  are  purged 
away,  still  they  cleave  to  us.  Our  nature  is 
still  denied,  though  our  conscience  has  been 
cleansed.  It  is  against  sin,  as  still  existing 
within  us,  though  forgiven,  that  chastisement 
is  directed. 

The  casting  of  gold  or  silver  into  the  furnace 
implies  that  there  is  dross  upon  them  that  re- 
quires to  be  purged  out  with  fire.  Were  there 
no  dross,  there  would  be  no  need  for  furnace 
or  fire,  or  refiner's  labor.  These  are  but  means 
for  getting  quit  of  the  dross.  The  fire  which 
the  Lord  is  to  kindle  in  the  earth,  when  he 
comes  again,  proves  that  sin  is  found  upon  it. 
Were  there  no  curse  lying  on  the  earth,  no 
purifying  fire  would  be  needed.  But  the  blight 
must  be  burned  out,  the  trail  of  the  serpent 
must  be  swept  clean  away ;  and  therefore 
the  earth  must  be  cast  into  the  furnace,  that 
out  of  it  may  come  a  new  and  more  glorious 
creation,  fit  for  God  to  look  upon,  and  for  holy 
men  to  dwell  in,  and  from  which,  therefore, 
•very  trace  of  corruption  must  be  totally  erased. 

So  with  chastisement.  It  has  reference  to 
sin.  Were  it  not  for  sin,  chastisement  would 
oe  unknown.  In  heaven  there  is  no  chastise- 


THE    PURIFYING.  109 

ment,  for  there  is  no  sin.  Angels  know  nothing 
of  it,  for  they  know  no  sin.  They  see  it  afar 
off.  They  hear  the  sad  story  of  earth.  They 
witness  the  tribulations  of  the  church,  but  that 
is  all.  For  it  is  only  where  there  is  sin  that 
there  is  chastisement.  Its  existence  here  is 
just  God's  voice,  saying,  "  I  have  found  iniquity 
upon  the  earth."  Its  infliction  on  an  individual 
is  God  saying,  "  I  have  seen  sin  on  thee."  I 
do  not  take  up  the  question  as  to  particular 
trials  being  the  result  of  particular  sins  in  in- 
dividuals. In  many  cases  we  know  that  this 
is  the  case.  In  others  it  is  more  doubtful. 
And  hence,  though  it  is  well  in  affliction  to  ask 
what  special  sin  or  sins  God  is  pointing  at,  it 
is  wrong  in  us  to  fix  exclusively  upon  one  or 
two,  instead  of  turning  our  attention  to  the 
whole  body  of  sin,  and  directing  our  efforts 
against  that. 

But  chastisement  supposes  also  a  determi- 
nation on  the  part  of  God  to  get  quit  of  sin.  It 
is  the  expression  of  his  hatred  to  it,  and  of  his 
settled  purpose  to  deliver  from  it.  To  purify 
us  is  what  he  seeks  ;  and  this  he  is  resolved  to 
accomplish  at  whatever  cost.  It  must  be  done, 
for  he  cannot  look  upon  iniquity.  And  what 
is  pain  if  it  expel  sin  ?  What  is  sorrow,  if  it 
10 


110  THE   PURIFYING. 

help  to  purge  away  the  evil  of  our  nature — a 
lifetime's  accumulated  dross. 

There  are  several  figures  which  God  em- 
ploys for  pointing  out  his  designs  in  chas- 
tising us.  Let  us  enumerate  these. 

1.  It  is  a  refining.  The  saints  are  "  cho- 
sen in  the  furnace  of  affliction,"*  and  "  when 
they  are  tried  they  come  forth  as  gold."t 
The  heat  of  the  furnace  burns  out  the  dross 
and  leaves  the  pure  metal  behind.  It  is  iu 
the  furnace  that  the  flesh  is  destroyed  and  the 
old  man  gets  his  death-stroke.  It  is  in  the 
furnace  that  self-confidence  is  uptorn,  unbelief 
is  broken,  and  faith  is  strengthened,  and  puri- 
fied. Were  it  not  for  the  furnace,  what 
would  become  of  our  dross  and  alloy  ?  And 
then  when  the  silver  is  in  the  crucible  the 
refiner  himself  comes  near.  Hear  how  the 
Lord  hath  spoken  concerning  this  ?  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  behold  I  will  melt 
them  and  try  them,  for  how  shall  I  do  for  the 
daughter  of  my  people."!  "  I  will  turn  my 
hand  upon  thee,  and  purely  purge  away  thy 
dross,  and  take  away  all  thy  tin."§  "  When 
the  Lord  shall  have  purged  the  blood  of  Jeru- 

•  Is.  xhriii.  10.     t  Job  xxiii.  10.     j  Jer.  ix.  7.     §  Is.  i.  25. 


THE    PURIF5TING.  Ill 

ealem  from  the  midst  thereof  by  the  Spirit  of 
judgment  and  by  the  Spirit  of  burning."* 

2.  It  is  a  sifting1.     "  Lo,  I  will  command, 
and  I  will  sift  the  house  of  Israel  among  all 
nations   like   as  corn  is  sifted  in  a  sieve. "t 
We  are  God's  corn,  grown  in  his  fields  and 
gathered  in  by  his  hand.     Yet  we  are  coarse 
and   rough  grain.     Many   a    sifting  process 
must  we  pass  through,  in   order  to  separate 
the   coarser  particles,   that  nothing  but  the 
finest  may  remain.     Affliction  sifts  us.    Per- 
secution sifts   us.     God  has   many  a  sieve, 
some  finer  and  some  coarser,  and  he  makes 
us  to  pass  through  them  according  as  we  re- 
quire.    He  sifts  the   professing   church,    and 
many  fall  off.     He  applies  a  finer  sieve,  and 
many  more  fall  off.     He  takes  each  church 
by  itself,  each  congregation  by  itself,  and  sifts 
them,  and  many  false  brethren  are  discovered. 
He  takes  each  believer   and    sifts  him  indi 
vidually  and  his  coarser  particles  pass   off. 
This  process  is  repeated.     He   is   winnowed 
and  sifted  again  and  again  till  the  grain  is   ' 
purified. 

3.  It  is  a  pruning.     "  Every  branch  that 
heareth  fruit  he  purgeth  it,  that  it  may  bring 

*  Is.  iv.  4.  r  Amos  ix.  9. 


112  THE    PURIFYING 

forth  more  fruit."*  We  are  the  branches  of 
the  vine.  Christ  is  the  Father's  vine ;  the 
stem  and  root  of  all  spiritual  life.  Over  this 
precious  vine  the  Father  watches.  His  desire 
is  that  "  the  branch  of  the  Lord  should  be 
beautiful  and  glorious  ;"  that  this  vine  should 
yield  its  fruit  in  its  season.  Hence  he  not 
only  waters  it,  but  keeps  it  night  and  day. 
And  he  prunes  it  with  the  skill  and  care  of 
a  husbandman.  He  wishes  to  make  each 
branch  fruitful  as  well  as  comely,  and  he 
spares  no  pains  :  for  "  herein  is  He  glorified  if 
we  bear  much  fruit."  How  much  we  owe  to 
this  heavenly  pruning  !  What  rank,  luxu- 
riant branches  does  it  cut  away !  What 
earthliness,  what  foolishness,  what  wayward- 
ness, what  hastiness,  what  fleshly  lusts,  what 
selfish  narrowness,  are  all,  one  by  one,  skill- 
fully pruned  away  by  the  vine-dresser's  care- 
ful knife. 

4.  It  is  a  polishing.  We  are  "living 
stones,"  placed  one  by  one,  upon  the  great 
foundation  stone  laid  in  Zion,  for  the  heavenly 
temple.  These  stones  must  first  be  quarried 
out  of  the  mass.  This  the  Holy  Spirit  does 
at  conversion.  Then,  when  cut  out,  the 

*  John  iv.  2. 


THE    PURIFYING.  113 

hewing  and  squaring  begin.     And  God  uses 
affliction  as  his  hammer  and  chisel  for  accom- 
plishing this.     Many  a  stroke  is  needed  :  and 
after  being  thus  hewn  into  shape,  the  polish-    .. 
ing  goes  on.     All  roughness  must  be  smoothed 
away.     The  stone  must  be  turned  round  and 
round  on  every  side,  that  no  part  of  it  may    ) 
be  left  unpolished. 

The  temple  indeed  is  above,  and  we  are  ,« 
below.  But  this  is  God's  design.  As  the 
stones  of  Solomon's  temple  were  all  to  be 
prepared  at  a  distance,  and  then  brought  to 
Jerusalem,  there  to  be  builded  together,  so  the 
living  stones  of  the  heavenly  temple  are  all 
made  ready  here,  to  be  fitted  in  without  the 
noise  of  an  axe  or  hammer,  to  the  glorious 
building  not  made  with  hands.  Every  one 
then  must  be  polished  here  :  and  whilst  there 
are  many  ways  for  doing  this,  the  most  effec 
tual  is  suffering.  And  this  is  God's  design  in 
chastisement.  This  is  what  the  Holy  Spirit 
effects  :  as  like  a  workman,  he  stands  over 
each  stone,  touching  and  retouching  it,  turn- 
ing it  on  every  side,  marking  its  blemishes 
and  roughness,  and  then  applying  his  tools  to 
effect  the  desired  shape  and  polish.  Some 
parts  of  the  stone  are  so  rugged  and  hard,  ) 
10* 


114  THE    PURIFYING. 

that  nothing  save  heavy  and  repeated  strokes 
and  touches  will  smooth  them  down.  They 
resist  every  milder  treatment.  And  yet,  in 
patient  love,  this  heavenly  workman  carries 
on  the  Father's  purpose  concerning  us.  Keep- 
ing beside  him,  if  one  may  thus  speak  after 
the  manner  of  men,  the  perfect  model  accord- 
ing to  which  the  stone  is  to  be  fashioned, — 
even  Jesus,  the  Father's  chosen  one, — he 
labors  till  every  part  is  shaped  according  to 
his  likeness,  line  after  line.  No  pains  are 
spared,  no  watchfulness  relaxed,  till  we  are 
made  entirely  like  him,  being  changed  into 
the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord. 

Thus  affliction  moulds  and  purifies.  Thus 
it  effaces  the  resemblance  of  the  first  Adam, 
and  traces  in  us  each  lineament  of  the  second, 
that  "  as  we  have  borne  the  image  of  the 
earthly,  we  may  also  bear  the  image  of  the 
heavenly."  "  Oh,"  said  a  saint  of  other  days, 
"  what  I  owe  to  the  file,  to  the  hammer,  to  the 
furnace  of  my  Lord  Jesus  !" 

Come,  then,  let  us  question  ourselves  and 
endeavor  to  ascertain  what  affliction  has  been 
doing  for  us,  and  what  progress  we  are  making 
in  putting  off  the  old  man  and  in  putting  on 


THE    PURIFYING.  115 

the  new.  Am  I  losing  my  worldliness  of  spirit, 
an  I  becoming  heavenly-minded?  Am  I  get- 
ting quit  of  my  pride,  my  passion,  my  stub- 
bornness, and  becoming  humble,  mild,  and 
teachable  ?  Are  all  rny  idols  displaced  and 
broken,  and  my  creature  comforts  do  I  use  as 
though  I  used  them  not  ?  Am  I  caring  less  for 
the  honors  of  time,  for  man's  love,  man's  smile, 
man's  applause?  Am  I  crucified  to  the  world, 
and  is  the  world  crucified  to  me,  by  the  cross 
of  Christ ;  or  am  I  still  ashamed  of  his  reproach, 
and  half-reluctant  to  follow  him  through  bad 
report  and  through  good,  through  honor  and 
through  shame  ?  Do  I  count  it  my  glory  and 
my  joy  to  walk  where  he  has  led  the  way,  to 
suffer  wherein  he  suffered,  to  drink  of  the  cup 
of  which  he  drank,  and  to  be  baptized  with  the 
baptism  wherewith  he  was  baptized?  Or3 
while  professing  to  seek  the  kingdom  hereafter, 
do  I  refuse  to  undergo  that  tribulation  through 
which  it  must  be  entered ;  whilst  willing  to 
secure  the  crown  of  glory,  do  I  shrink  back 
from  the  crown  of  thorns  ?  Am  I  every  day 
becoming  more  and  more  unlike  the  children 
of  earth,  more  and  more  fashioned  after  the 
likeness,  and  bearing  the  special  lineaments  of 
my  Elder  Brother,  of  whom  the  whole  family 


116  THE    PURIFYING. 

in  heaven  and  earth  is  named  ?  Do  I  realize 
this  earth  as  neither  my  portion  nor  my  rest, 
and,  knowing  that  one  chain  may  bind  me  as 
fast  to  the  world  as  a  thousand,  am  I  careful 
to  shake  off  every  fetter  that  may  bind  me  to 
(  the  vanities  of  a  world  like  this  ?  Is  chastise- 
ment really  purifying  me  ?  Am  I  conscious  of 
its  blessed  effects  upon  my  soul  ?  Can  I  look 
back  upon  such  and  such  scenes  of  trial  and 
say,  "  there  and  then  I  learnt  most  precious 
lessons ;  there  and  then  I  got  rid  of  some  of  the 
body  of  this  death ;  there  and  then  I  got  up  to 
a  higher  level,  from  which  I  am  striving  to 
ascend  to  one  higher  still?"  Have  I  learned 
much  of  the  sympathy  of  Jesus,  and  known 
the  blessedness  of  having  such  an  one  as  he  to 
weep  along  with  me  in  my  day  of  sorrow? 
Have  I  wiped  off  my  rebellious  tears  and  been 
taught  to  shed  only  those  of  love  arid  submis- 
sive fondness ;  tears  of  brotherhood  and  sym- 
pathy, tears  of  longing  to  be  absent  from  the 
body,  and  present  with  the  Lord  ? 

To  make  us  "  partakers  of  his  holiness,"  13 
God's  great  design,  as  stated  by  the  apostle. 
And  there  is  something  very  remarkable  about 
the  expression.  It  corresponds  to  a  similar  on 3 
.'n  the  second  epistle  of  Peter,  "  partakers  of 


THE   PURIFYING.  117 

the  divine  nature."  It  implies  something  very 
exalted,  and  very  blessed  ;  much  more  so  than 
if  it  had  merely  been  told  us  that  God's  aim 
was  to  "  make  us  holy."  Partakers  of  his  own 
very  holiness, — his  very  nature  !  This  is  more 
than  angels  can  glory  in.  It  is  something  pe- 
culiar to  "  the  redeemed  from  among  men," — • 
the  members  of  the  body  of  Christ.  And  it  is 
in  this  way  that  Jesus  speaks  to  us.  It  is  not 
merely  "  peace  "  that  he  promises  to  us,  but  his 
own  peace, — "  my  peace."  It  is  not  merely 
joy  he  bestows,  but  his  own  joy. — "  my  joy." 
So  here  it  is  not  merely  holiness  he  is  confer- 
ring upon  us,  but  his  own  holiness.  His  wish 
is  to  make  us  partakers  of  that.  And  oh !  how 
much  does  that  imply ! 

A  goodly  prize  this !  One  for  the  obtaining 
of  which  we  may  well  count  all  things  but  loss. 
It  is  well  for  us  when  we  come  to  see  it  in  all 
its  value  and  excellency,  and  to  set  our  hearts 
upon  it.  Until  we  do  so  there  will  be  strife 
between  us  and  God ;  for  this  is  the  blessing 
which  above  all  others  he  desires  for  us,  and 
which  he  is  bent  on  conferring  upon  us.  When, 
however,  we  come  to  be  perfectly  at  one  with 
him  as  to  this,  then  the  struggle  ceases.  He 
gets  his  own  way,  and  this  is  best  for  us.  How 


118  THE    PURIFYING. 

blessed,  when  his  desire  to  deliver  us  from  sin, 
and  ours  to  be  delivered  from  it,  meet  together; 
when  his  purpose  to  make  us  holy  is  cordially 
responded  to  by  our  fervent  longings  to  be  so! 
Then  it  is  that  the  Divine  fulness  flows  into 
the  soul  without  a  check,  and,  notwithstanding 
the  bitterness  of  the  outward  process  by  which 
this  is  effected,  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory,  possesses  the  consecrated  soul. 

"  Wherefore,  laying  aside  every  weight,  and 
the  sin  which  doth  so  easily  beset  us,  let  us 
run  with  patience  the  race  set  before  us,  look- 
ing unto  Jesus,  the  author  and  the  finisher  of 
our  faith,  who  for  the  joy  set  before  him  en- 
dured the  cross,  despising  the  shame."  And 
there  is  nothing  like  affliction  for  teaching  us 
this.  It  acts  like  the  wind  upon  the  trees, 
making  them  take  deeper  root.  It  is  the 
mowing  of  the  grass,  that  it  may  shoot  up 
thicker  and  greener.  It  is  the  shaking  of  the 
torch  that  it  may  blaze  the  brighter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE     AROUSING. 

(  IT  may  have  been  long  since  the  Holy  Spirit 
awoke  us  from  our  sleep  of  death.  Into  that 
same  deep  sleep  we  know  that  we  shall  never 
fall  again.  He  who  awoke  us  will  keep  us 
awake  until  Jesus  come.  In  that  sense  we 
shall  sleep  no  more. 

But  still  much  of  our  drowsiness  remains. 
We  are  not  wholly  awake,  and  oftentimes 
much  of  our  former  sleep  returns.  Dwelling 
on  the  world's  enchanted  ground,  our  eyes 
close,  our  senses  are  bewildered,  our  conscience 
loses  its  sensitiveness,  and  our  faculties  their 
energy ;  we  fall  asleep  even  upon  our  watch- 
tower,  forgetful  that  the  night  is  far  spent,  and 
the  day  is  at  hand. 

While  thus  asleep,  or  half-asleep,  all  goes 
wrong.  Our  movements  are  sluggish  and  life- 
less. Our  faith  waxes  feeble ;  our  love  is 
chilled ;  our  zeal  cools  down.  The  freshness  of 
other  years  is  gone.  Our  boldness  has  forsaken 
us.  Our  schemes  are  carelessly  devised  and 


120  THE    AROUSING. 

drowsily  executed.  The  work  of  Go;!  is  hin- 
dered by  us  instead  of  being  helped  forward. 
We  are  a  drag  upon  it.  We  mar  it. 

But  God  will  not  have  it  so.  Neither  for  his 
work's  sake,  nor  for  his  saints'  sake,  can  he 
suffer  this  to  continue.  We  must  be  aroused 
at  whatsoever  cost.  We  are  not  to  be  allowed 
to  sleep  as  do  others.  We  must  watch  and  be 
sober,  for  we  are  children  of  the  light  and  of 
the  day,  not  of  the  night  nor  of  darkness.  God 
cannot  permit  us  thus  to  waste  life,  as  if  its 
only  use  were  to  be  sported  with  or  trifled 
away.  Duties  lazily  and  lifelessly  performed  : 
half-hearted  prayers ;  a  deportment,  blameless 
enough  perhaps,  but  tame  and  unexpressive, 
and,  therefore  uninfluential ;  words  well  and 
wisely  spoken  perhaps,  but  without  depth  and 
intensity,  and,  therefore,  without  weight, — 
these  are  not  things  which  God  can  tolerate  in 
a  saint.  It  is  either  the  coldness  of  Sardis,  to 
which  he  says,  "  If  thou  shall  not  watch,  I  will 
come  on  thee  as  a  thief,  and  thou  shalt  not 
know  what  hour  I  will  come  upon  thee."  Or 
it  is  the  lukewarmness  of  Laodicea,  to  which 
he  says,  "  Because  thou  art  lukewarm,  and 
neither  cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spue  thee  out  of  my 
mouth." 


THE    AROUSING.  121 

In  arousing  us,  God  proceeds  at  first  most 
gently.  He  touches  us  slightly,  as  the  angel 
did  Elijah,  under  the  juniper  tree,  that  he  may 
awake  us.  He  sends  some  slight  visitation  to 
shake  us  out  of  our  security.  He  causes  us  to 
hear  some  distant  noise  ;  it  may  be  the  tumults 
of  the  nations,  or  it  may  be  the  tidings  of 
famine,  or  war,  or  pestilence  afar  off.  Perhaps 
this  entirely  fails ;  we  slumber  on  as  securely 
as  ever.  Our  life  is  as  listless  and  as  useless 
as  ever.  Then  he  comes  nearer,  and  makes 
his  voice  to  be  heard  in  our  own  neighborhood. 
or  within  the  circle  of  our  kindred.  This  also 
fails.  Then  he  comes  nearer  still,  for  the  time 
is  hurrying  on,  and  the  saint  is  still  asleep.  He 
speaks  into  our  very  ears.  He  smites  upon 
some  tender  part,  till  every  fibre  of  our  frame 
quivers,  and  every  pulse  throbs  quicker.  Our 
very  soul  is  stricken  through,  as  with  a  thou- 
sand arrows.  Then  we  start  up  like  one 
awakening  out  of  a  long  sleep,  and,  looking 
round  U3,  wonder  how  we  could  have  slept  so 
long. 

But  oh,  how  difficult  it  is   thoroughly  to 

awaken  us !     It  needs  stroke  upon  stroke  in 

long  succession  to  do  this.     For  after  every 

waking  up,  there  is  the  continual  tendency  to 

11 


122  THE   AROUSING. 

fall  back  again  into  slumber.  So  that  we  need 
both  to  be  made  awake,  and  to  be  kept  awake. 
What,  sorrows  does  our  drowsiness  cost  us—  • 
what  bleeding,  broken  hearts  !  The  luxury 
of  "  ease  in  Zion,"  indulged  in  perhaps  for 
years,  has  been  dearly  bought. 

"  Think  of  living,"  was  the  pregnant  maxim 
of  the  thoughtful  German.  "  Thy  life,"  says 
another,  quoting  the  above,  "  wert  thou  the 
pitifulest  of  all  the  sons  of  earth  is  no  idle 
dream,  but  a  solemn  reality.  It  is  thy  own. 
It  is  all  thou  hast  to  confront  eternity  with. 
Work  then,  like  a  STAR,  unhasting  yet  un- 
resting." 

There  are  some  Christians  who  work,  but 
they  do  not  work  like  men  awake.  They 
move  forward  in  a  certain  track  of  duty,  but  it 
is  with  weary  footstep.  Their  motions  are 
constrained  and  cold.  They  do  many  good 
things,  devise  many  good  schemes,  say  excel- 
lent things,  but  the  vigorous  pulse  of  warm 
life  is  wanting.  Zeal,  glowing  zeal, — elastic 
and  untiring, — is  not  theirs.  They  neither 
burn  themselves,  nor  do  they  kindle  others. 
There  is  nothing  of  the  "star"  about  them, 
save  its  coldness.  They  may  expect  some  sharp 
stroke  of  chastisement,  for  they  need  it. 


THE    AROUSING.  123 

There  are  others  who  are  only  wakeful  by 
fits  and  starts.  They  cannot  be  safely  counted 
on,  for  their  fervor  depends  upon  the  humor  of 
the  moment.  A  naturally  impulsive  tempera- 
ment, of  which,  perhaps,  they  are  not  suf- 
ficiently aware,  and  which  they  have  not  sought 
either  to  crucify  or  to  regulate,  renders  them 
uncertain  in  all  their  movements.  This  inter- 
mittent wakefulness  effects  but  little.  They 
do  and  they  undo.  They  build  up  and  they 
pulldown.  They  kindle  and  quench  the  flame 
alternately.  There  is  nothing  of  the  "  star  " 
about  them.  They  stand  in  need  of  some  sore 
and  long-continued  pressure,  to  equalize  the 
variable,  fitful  movements  of  their  spirit. 

There  are  others  who  seem  to  be  always 
wakeful,  but  then  it  is  the  wakefulness  of 
bustle  and  restlessness.  They  cannot  live 
but  in  the  midst  of  stirring,  and  scheming, 
and  moving  to  and  fro.  Their  temperament 
is  of  that  nervous,  tremulous,  impatient  kind 
that  makes  rest  or  retirement  to  be  felt  as 
restraint  and  pain.  These  seldom  effect 
much  themselves,  but  they  are  often  useful, 
by  their  perpetual  stir  and  friction,  for  setting 
or  keeping  others  in  motion,  and  preventing 
stagnation  around  them.  But  their  incessant 


124  THE    AROUSING. 

motion  prevents  their  being  filled  with  the 
needed  grace.  Their  continual  contact  with 
the  outward  things  of  religion  hinders  their 
inward  growth,  and  mars  their  spirituality. 
These  are  certainly  in  one  sense  like  the 
"  star,"  wakeful  and  unresting,  but  they  move 
forward  with  such  haste,  that  instead  of 
gathering  light  or  giving  it  forth,  they  are 
losing  every  day  the  little  that  they  pos- 
sessed. A  deep  sharp  stroke  will  be  needed 
for  shaking  off  this  false  fervour,  and  impart- 
ing the  true  calm  wakefulness  of  Spirit,  to 
which,  as  saints,  they  are  called.  It  is  the 
deepening  of  spiritual  feeling  that  is  needed 
in  their  case,  and  it  takes  much  chastening  to 
accomplish  this. 

There  are  others  who  are  always  steadily 
at  work,  and  apparently  with  fervour  too. 
Yet  a  little  intercourse  with  them  shows  that 
they  are  not  truly  awake.  They  work  so 
much  more  than  they  pray,  that  they  soon 
become  like  vessels  without  oil.  They  are 
further  on  than  the  last  class,  yet  still  they 
need  arousing.  They  are  like  the  "  star," 
both  "  unresting  and  unhasting,"  yet  their 
light  is  dim.  Its  reflection  upon  a  dark  world 
is  faint  and  pale.  It  is  a  deeper  spiritual  life 


f 

\    t 


THE    AROUSING.  125 

and  experience  that  they  need  ;  and  for  this, 
it  may  be,  there  is  some  sore  visitation  in 
store  for  them. 

The  true  wakeful  life  is  different  from  all 
these.  It  is  a  thing  of  intensity  and  depth. 
It  carries  ever  about  with  it  the  air  of  calm 
and  restful  dignity  ;  of  inward  power  and 
greatness.  It  is  fervent,  but  not  feverish  ; 
energetic,  but  not  excited  ;  speedy  in  its 
doings,  but  not  hasty  ;  prudent,  but  not  timid 
or  selfish  ;  resolute  and  fearless,  but  not  rash  ; 
unobtrusive  and  sometimes,  it  may  be,  silent, 
yet  making  all  around  to  feel  its  influence  ; 
full  of  joy  and  peace,  yet  without  parade  or 
noise  ;  overflowing  in  tenderness  and  love, 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  faithful  and  true. 

This  is  the  wakeful  life  !  But  oh,  before  it 
is  thoroughly  attained,  how  much  are  we 
sometimes  called  upon  to  suffer,  through  the 
rebelliousness  of  a  carnal  nature,  that  will 
not  let  us  surrender  ourselves  up  wholly  to 
God,  and  present  ourselves  as-  living  sacrifices, 
which  is  our  reasonable  service. 

In  thus  arousing  us  from  our  slumber,  chas- 

tisement not  merely  makes  us  more  energetic, 

more   laborious,    but   it   makes   us   far  more 

prayerful.      Perhaps,    it    is    here,    that    the 

11* 


126  THE    AROUSING. 

waking  up  is  most  sensibly  felt.  Nothing  so 
quickens  prayer  as  trial.  It  sends  us,  at  once, 
to  our  knees,  and  shuts  the  door  of  our  closet 
behind  us.  In  the  day  of  prosperity  we  have 
many  comforts,  many  refuges  to  resort  to ;  in 
the  day  of  sorrow  we  have  only  one,  and  that 
is  God.  Our  grief  is  too  deep  to  tell  to  any 
other  :  it  is  too  heavy  for  any  other  to  soothe. 
Now  we  awrake  to  prayer.  It  was  something 
to  us  before,  but  now  it  is  all.  Man's  arm 
fails,  and  there  is  none  but  God  to  lean  upon. 

Our  closets,  in  truth,  are  the  only  places  of 
light  in  a  world  which  has  now  become 
doubly  dark  to  us.  All  without  and  around 
is  gloom.  Clouds  overshadow  the  whole  re- 
gion. Only  the  closet  is  bright  and  calm. 
How  eagerly,  how  thankfully  we  betake  our- 
selves to  it  now.  We  could  spend  our  whole 
time  in  this  happy  island  of  light  which  God 
has  provided  for  us  in  the  midst  of  a  stormy 
ocean.  When  compelled,  at  times,  to  leave 
it,  how  gladly  ,do  we  return  to  it !  What 
peaceful  hours  of  solitude  we  have  there,  with 
God  for  our  one  companion  !  We  can  almost 
forget  that  the  clouds  of  earth  are  still  above 
us,  and  its  tempests  still  noting  around  us. 

Prayer  becomes  a  far  more  real  thing  than 


THE    AROUSING.  127 

ever.  It  is  prized  now  as  it  was  never  prized 
before.  We  cannot  do  without  it.  Of  neces- 
sity, as  well  as  of  choice,  we  must  pray,  and 
send  up  our  cries  from  the  depths.  It  becomes 
a  real  asking,  a  real  pleading.  It  is  no  form 
now.  What  new  life,  new  energy,  new  ear- 
nestness are  poured  into  each  petition  !  It  is 
the  heart  that  is  now  speaking,  and  the  lips 
cannot  find  words  wherewith  to  give  utterance 
to  its  desires.  The  groanings  that  "  cannot 
be  uttered"  are  all  that  now  burst  forth  and 
ascend  up  into  the  ear  of  God.  Formerly, 
there  Avas  often  the  lip  without  the  heart ; 
now  it  is  far  oftener  the  heart  without  the  lip. 
Now  we  know  how  "  the  Spirit  helpeth  our 
infirmities."  We  begin  to  feel  what  it  is  to 
"  pray  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 
.  There  is  a  new  nearness  to  God.  Com- 
munion with  him  is  far  more  of  a  conscious 
reality  now.  It  is  close  dealing  with  a  living 
personal  Jehovah.  New  arguments  suggest 
themselves ;  new  desires  spring  up ;  new 
wants  disclose  themselves.  Our  own  empti- 
ness and  God's  manifold  fulness  are  brought 
before  us  so  vividly  that  the  longings  of  our 
inmost  souls  are  kindled,  and  our  heart  crieth 
out  for  God,  for  the  living  God.  It  was 


128  THE    AROUSING. 

David's  sorrows  that  quickened  prayer  in  him. 
It  was  in  the  belly  of  the  whale  that  Jonah 
was  taught  to  cry  aloud.  And  it  was  among 
the  thorns  of  the  wilderness  and  (he  fetters  of 
Babylon  that  Manasseh  learnt  to  pray. 

Church  of  Christ, — chosen  heritage  of  the 
Lord, — awake  !     Children  of  the  light  and  of 
the  day,  arise  !      The  long  winter  night  is 
nearly  over.     The  day-star  is  preparing  to 
ascend.     "  The  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand, 
/"  be  ye  therefore  sober  and  watch  unto  prayer."* 
"  Why   sleep  ye  ?     Rise   and  pray,   lest   ye 
^\     enter  into  temptation  !"t 

*  1  Peter  iv.  7.  4  Luke  xxii.  4fi. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE     SOLEMNIZING. 

LAUGHTER  and  gaiety  belong  to  a  fallen 
world.  They  are  too  superficial  to  have 
place  among  the  holy ;  and  too  hollow  to  be 
known  among  the  truly  happy.  With  the 
peace  of  God  in  our  hearts  we  feel  that  we 
do  not  need  them.  They  may  do  for  child- 
hood ;  they  may  do  for  the  world  ;  but  not 
for  us.  They  do  not  suit  our  feelings ;  they 
are  not  deep  nor  solid  enough  to  be  in  har- 
mony with  our  new  nature.  They  are  not 
the  utterances  of  a  truly  happy  soul. 

Yet  we  live  in  a  gay  world  that  rings 
everywhere  with  hollow  laughter.  Around 
us  are  the  sights  and  sounds  of  mirth,  by 
which  vain  men  are  seeking  to  cheat  away 
their  ever-fretting  uneasiness,  to  soothe  their 
ruffled  consciences,  or  to  drown  their  bitterer 
sorrows.  Oftentimes  the  saints  seem  to  catch 
the  tone  of  levity,  making  mirth  with  the 
most  mirthful,  jesting  with  the  most  foolish, 
singing,  perhaps,  the  world's  songs  of  vanity, 


130  THE    SOLEMNIZING. 

speaking  its  idle  words,  walking  in  its  vain 
paths  as  if  its  friendships  and  pleasures  were 
not  forbidden  things. 

Apart,  however,  from  the  contagion  of  the 
world's  influence,  our  tone  is  apt  to  fall  low 
and  our  deportment  to  lose  that  solidity  and 
seriousness  which  become  the  saints.  Almost 
unconsciously  and  without  knowing  how,  we 
get  light  and  airy ;  we  give  way  to  the  cur- 
rent of  vain  thoughts  ;  we  forget  to  set  a 
guard  upon  our  lips  ;  we  indulge  in  foolish 
talking  and  jesting  in  our  meetings  with  each 
other.  Our  words  are  not  "with  grace,  sea- 
soned with  salt."  We  forget  the  admonition, 
"  let  no  corrupt  communication  proceed  out  of 
your  mouths,  but  that  which  is  good  to  the 
use  of  edifying,  that  it  may  minister  grace  to 
the  hearers." 

This  propensity  grows  upon  us.  Serious- 
ness becomes  a  thing  reserved  entirely  for 
(he  closet  or  the  sanctuary.  We  forget  our 
character  as  saints,  called  out  of  darkness  and 
"  delivered  from  a  present  evil  world."  We 
lose  sight  of  our  heavenly  parentage  and  di- 
vine adoption.  Our  whole  habits  of  thought, 
feeling,  speaking  and  doing,  too  much  resem- 
ble the  flippancy  of  a  heedless3  light-hearted 


THE    SOLEMNIZING.  131 

world,  whose  maxim  is,  "let  us  eat,  drink, 
and  be  merry." 

Thus  our  spirituality  decays.  Heavenly- 
mindedness  is  gone.  We  become  of  the  earth, 
earthly.  Our  souls  cleave  to  the  dust,  and 
we  are  content  to  grovel  there.  We  become 
lean  and  barren,  neither  growing  ourselves 
nor  helping  the  growth  of  others.  Our  blos- 
soms send  forth  no  fragrance,  our  branches 
bear  no  fruit. 

>  We  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  whereby 
i  we  are  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption. 
i  He  cannot  dwell  with  levity  and  mirth  any 
»  more  than  amid  profanity  and  crime.  He 
i  retires  from  the  temple  into  which  he  had 
J  come,  and  in  which  he  would  fain  make  his 
\  abode  forever,  driven  out  from  it  by  the  laugh- 

*  ter  and  jesting  with  which  we  were  making 
»  its  consecrated  walls  to  resound.     How  can 
,  he  dwell  in  a  temple  which,  from  being  a 

•  house  of  God  and  a  house  of  prayer,  we  have 
»  turned  into  a  place  of  merchandize,  a  hall  of 

-  revelry,  a  haunt  of  mirth  and  song  ? 

I  do  not  mean,  as  I  have  said  before,  that 
the  saint  is  ever  to  be  gloomy.  No.  Gloom 
and  melancholy  are  not  our  portion.  "  The 
lines  have  fallen  unto  us  in  pleasant  places." 


132  THE    SOLEMNIZING. 

They  are  not  the  inmates  of  a  soul  that  has 
tasted  the  joy  of  pardon  and  is  walking  in 
light,  as  a  happy  child  with  a  loving  father. 
But  true  joy  is  a  serious  thing.  Its  fountains 
are  deep.  It  is  the  waking  up  of  the  heart's 
deep  springs.  Mirth  and  levity  are  not  joy. 
They  are  too  shallow  to  deserve  the  name.  * 
Like  the  sun-flash  on  a  stagnant  pool,  they 
are  a  mere  surface  gleam  of  light.  There  is 
nothing  in  them  of  the  calm  radiance,  illumi- 
nating the  ocean  depths,  many  a  fathom 
down,  as  if  the  waters  themselves  were  a 
mass  of  solid  sunshine,  and  remaining  amid 
the  heaving  of  the  billows,  unbroken  and 
unobscured.  In  coming  to  him,  who  is  the 
fountain  of  all  gladness,  the  saint  of  God  bids 
farewell  to  gloom.  Tribulation  he  may  have, 
— nay,  must  have, — but  not  gloom.  That 
has  left  him  forever  since  the  day  he  knew 
the  Saviour,  and  opened  his  ears  to  the  joyful 
sound.  Peace  is  now  his  heritage. 

But  still  it  is  not  levity  that  is  his  portion. 
It  is  joy.  And  this  joy  is  not  only  far  superior 
to  this  vain  mirth,  but  it  is  utterly  inconsist- 
ent with  it.  This  levity  is  as  much  an 
enemy  to  real  joy  as  it  is  to  holiness  and 
spirituality.  Hence,  it  must  be  rooted  up. 


THE    SOLEMNIZING.  133 

God  cannot  suffer  it  in  his  children.  His 
desire  is  that  they  should  set  their  affections 
on  things  above.  This  element  of  earthliness 
must  be  purged  out.  They  must  be  made 
solemn  and  thoughtful.  For  this  end,  he 
visits  them  with  chastisement.  In  a  moment, 
perhaps,  he  smites  them  to  the  dust;  or,  by 
some  more  slow  but  withering,  crushing  calam- 
ity, he  slays  and  casts  out  that  foolishness 
which  had  wrought  itself  into  the  very  tex- 
ture of  their  being. 

His  purpose  is  to  make  them  thoughtful 
and  solemn.  He  lays  on  them  accordingly 
something  that  will  make  them  think.  The 
blow  prostrates  them:  and  in  a  moment  all 
levity  is  put  to  flight.  They  cannot  laugh  and 
jest  now,  when  their  home  is  desolate,  and 
their  hearts  are  bleeding.  They  are  withdrawn 
from  intercourse  with  an  airy  shadowy  world, 
and  sent  into  the  very  inmost  recesses  of  their 
spiritual  being,  or  forward  to  the  infinite  eter- 
nity, whose  vastness  they  had  been  but  little 
alive  to. 

Trials  awaken  us  to  a  sense  of  our  self- 
pleasing  ways,  and  our  indifference  to  the  con- 
dition of  the  world  we  live  in,  not  only  as  being 
a  world  of  sin,  but  thoroughly,  and  all  over  a 
12 


134  THE    SOLEMNIZING. 

world  of  misery.  They  bring  us  into  con- 
tact with  solid  certainties,  and  that  produces 
thoughtfulness.  Th«y  make  us  "  acquainted 
with  grief,"  and  that  drives  off  all  levity.  Sor 
_ow  and  levity  keep  no  companionship. 

It  is  through  tears  that  truth  is  best  seen. 
When  looked  at  through  this  medium,  objects 
assume  their  right  proportions,  and  take  their 
proper  level.  Shadows  then  evaporate.  Reali- 
ties compass  us  about;  and  these  make  us 
solemn.  Shadows  only  make  us  light  and 
vain.  They  never  stir  the  depths  of  our  being, 
bu  t  merely  flit  around  its  surface. 

Thus  God  solemnizes  his  saints,  and  brings 
them,  in  this  respect,  into  closer  sympathy  with 
the  mind  of  Christ.  All  was  solemnity  with 
him.  There  was  no  levity  ever  found  on  him. 
Everything  about  him  was  serene,  yet  every- 
thing was  solemn.  And  the  nearer  we  are 
brought  to  resemble  him,  the  more  will  this 
calm,  happy  solemnity  possess  us.  We  shall 
live  not  only  wakeful  but  solemn  lives.  Our 
whole  deportment  will  speak  the  depth  of  the 
serenity  that  dwells  within.  Our  looks  and 
tones  will  all  be  solemn,  and  will  of  themselves 
testify  for  God,  and  condemn  the  world.  We 
shall  be  men  awake  and  alive ;  men  zealous 


THE    SOLEMNIZING.  135 

and  in  earnest;  men  who  have  no  relish  for 
levity,  because  it  is  incompatible  with  the  deep 
peace  which  is  their  better  portion ;  and  who 
feel  that  they  have  no  time  for  it,  because 
eternity  is  so  near. 

Yes,  a  near  eternity  rebukes  and  banishes 
frivolity.  Even  apart  from  positive  trial  this  is 
its  tendency.  It  is  the  eternal  lifetime  that 
makes  the  lifetime  of  earth  such  a  solemn 
thing.  Sever  the  living  here  from  the  living 
hereafter,  and  man's  longest  being  on  earth  is 
little  more  in  importance  than  the  flutter  of  a 
leaf;  his  death  no  more  than  the  falling  of  a 
blossom.  But  fasten  on  the  infinite  and  the 
eternal  to  our  present  existence,  and  every- 
thing in  life  becomes  mighty,  momentous, 
solemn.  The  briefest  moment  that  comes  and 
goes  is  the  meeting-place  of  two  eternities. 
Traversing  this  narrow  pass,  with  rocks  on 
either  side  of  infinite  ascent  and  lost  in  impene- 
trable midnight,  how  can  we  fail  to  be  solem- 
nized unless  our  eyes  be  closed  or  our  reason 
gone. 

The  pang  that  shoots  through  our  frame  and 
makes  each  fibre  quiver,  would  be  quite  en- 
durable, were  it  but  for  a  moment ;  were  it  to 
die  and  be  buried  with  us  in  the  same  tomb ; 


136  THE   SOLEMNIZING. 

were  there  no  capacity  of  eternal  anguish  in 
our  nature,  or  no  eternity  in  which  that  capa^ 
city  must  develope  itself.  The  sting  of  a  mo- 
ment is  a  trifle,  but  the  eternal  stinging  of  the 
undying  worm  is  terrific  beyond  all  utterance. 
In  like  manner,  the  thrill  of  fresh  joy  which 
makes  the  whole  man  throb  with  delight, 
would  scarce  be  worth  the  having  or  the  losing, 
were  it  only  like  the  lightning,  flashing  out  in 
its  brightness,  afld  then  quenched  for  ever.  But 
a  nature  gifted  with  faculties  for  infinite  enjoy- 
ment, and  with  a  whole  eternity  in  which  these 
joyous  buds  shall  expand  themselves,  turns  all 
our  life  into  a  deep  and  awful  reality.  A  flower 
that  folds  up  its  leaves,  and  withers  down  at 
sunset,  may  be  carelessly  trodden  under  foot ; 
but  a  star  that  shall  roll  round  for  ever  in  its 
orbit,  either  effulgent  in  beauty,  or  dark  in  the 
gloom  of  its  own  chaos,  is  an  object  of  wonder 
and  awe. 

Such  is  the  life  of  man  !  Not  the  life  of  one 
man  or  some  men,  but  of  every  man.  By  itself 
it  may  seem  a  play-thing,  a  mere  insect's  life ; 
but  in  connection  with  the  everlasting  future, 
it  becomes  awfully  real  and  solemn  in  its 
aspect.  We  may  be  noble  and  famed  upon 
the  earth ;  or  we  may  be  poor,  unlettered,  hard- 


THE    SOLEMNIZING.  137 

toiling  men,  still  our  life  is  a  vast  reality.  It 
is  no  mere  shadow,  or  rainbow,  or  vision  of  the 
night,  but  an  unconceivable  reality  in  all  its 
parts,  great  or  small. 

Such  especially  is  the  life  of  the  saint !  He 
not  only  knows  that  there  is  an  eternity,  bat 
he  has  seen  and  felt  it.  Each  hour  he  is  look- 
ing out  upon  it  like  a  traveller  looking  over  a 
dark  and  infinite  precipice  which  flanks  the 
road  on  which  lie  is  passing  along.  He  not 
only  knows  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  for- 
giveness and  eternal  life ;  but  he  has  found 
them ;  he  has  tasted  them ;  his  eyes  have  been 
opened,  and  he  has  now  come  into  the  very 
midst  of  realities.  They  compass  him  about 
on  every  side.  And  especially  as  he  "  looks 
for  that  blessed  hope,  even  the  glorious  appear- 
ing "  of  the  Lord,  he  feels  what  a  solemn  life 
he  is  called  upon  to  lead,  and  that  levity  and 
mirth  as  ill  become  him  as  they  would  have 
done  the  High  Priest,  when  standing  within 
the  veil  under  the  immediate  vision  of  the 
glory. 

Even  without  the  positive  infliction  of  chas- 
tisement, there  is  enough  to  solemnize  a  saint, 
in  what  he  sees  and  knows  of  things  as  they 
are.  A  dying  world  ;  a  groaning  creation ;  a 


/ 
V 


138  THE    SOLEMNIZING. 

curse-laden  earth  ;  a  divided  bleeding  church ; 
an  absent  bridegroom ; — these  are,  at  all  times, 
enough  to  subdue  and  soften  a  believer's  frame. 
And  thus  he  walks  through  earth,  like  Paul 
after  he  had  been  in  the  third  heaven — an  in- 
habitant of  another  star, — one  who  has  his 
conversation  in  heaven, — who  is  too  happy  ever 
to  be  gloomy,  but  too  happy  also  ever  to  be 
light  or  vain. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    WARNING. 

AFFLICTION  is  full  of  warnings.  It 
many  voices,  and  these  of  the  most  various 
kinds.  It  speaks  counsel,  it  speaks  rebuke,  it 
speaks  affection.  But  it  speaks  warning'  too. 
Let  us  hear  some  of  its  words  of  warning. 
/""  1.  It  says,  "  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the 
things  that  are  in  the  world  ;  if  any  man  love 
the  world,  the  love  of  the  father  is  not  in  him."* 
There  is  no  enforcement  of  this  warning  so 
solemn  as  that  which  affliction  gives.  It  ex- 
poses the  world's  hollowness,  and  says,  "  love 
not."  It  shows  us  what  a  withering  gourd  its 
beauty  is,  and  says,  "  love  not."  It  points  out 
to  us  its  hastening  doom,  and  says,  "  love  not." 
It  declares  the  utter  impossibility  of  loving  both 
the  world  and  the  Father,  "  If  any  man  love 
the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him." 
"  Know  ye  not  that  the  friendship  of  the  world 
is  enmity  with  God/'  There  can  be  no  com- 
panionship between  God  and  the  world.  They 
cannot  dwell  together  under  the  same  roof  or  in 

the  same  heart. 

*  1  John  ii.  15. 


140  THE    WARNING. 

2.  It  says,  "  take  heed  and  beware  of  covet- 
ousness."*   Riches  cannot  help,  neither  earthly 
comfort  avail  us  in  the  hour  of  grief.     They 
cannot  dry  up  tears,  nor  reunite  broken  bonds. 
They  cannot  heal  the  living,  nor  bring  back 
the  dead.     They  profit  not  in  the  day  of  dark- 
ness.   Their  vanity  and  emptiness  cannot  then 
be  hidden.     "  Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul 
shall  .be  required  of  thee,  then  whose  shall 
those  things  be  which  thou  hast  provided."    It 
is  then  we  find  that  we  need  a  "  treasure  in  the 
heaven  that  faileth  not."     "I  counsel  thee  to 
buy  of  ME    gold  tried  in  the  fire,  that  thou 
mayest  be  rich." 

3.  It  says,  "  abstain  from  all  appearance  of 
evil."t     "  Hate  even  the  garments  spotted  by 
the  flesh."     It  is  not  the  flesh  merely  that  we 
are  to  hate,  but  even  its  garments.     Nor  is  it 
the  garments  dyed  and  defiled  with  the  flesh, 
but  even  "  spotted  "  with  it.     It  is  not  merely 
abstain  from  evil,  but  from  all  appearance  of 
evil.    Suffering  teaches  us  to  shrink  from  sin, — • 
even  from  the  remotest  and  most  indirect  con- 
nection with   it.     It  says,  "Oh. do  not  that 
abominable  thing  which  I  hate." 

4.  It  says,   "grudge  not  one  against   the 

*  Luke  xii.  15.          f  *  Thes8-  v-  22- 


THE    WARNING.  1  tl 

other."*  Let  there  be  no  half-hearted  affection 
in  the  family  of  God.  Let  there  be  no  envy, 
no  jealousy,  no  misunderstandings  among  the 
brethren.  Why  should  we  be  less  than  friends 
who  are  both  fellow-sufferers  and  fellow-soldiers 
here  ?  Why  should  we,  who  are  sharers  in  a 
common  danger  and  a  common  exile,  bear  to 
each  other  ought  but  the  sympathies  of  an  in- 
tense affection?  Why  should  we  not  love  one 
another  with  a  pure  heart  fervently?  Yet 
oftentimes  it  needs  affliction  to  teach  us  this,  to 
remove  our  jealousies,  and  to  draw  us  together 
as  brethren  in  sympathy  and  love. 

5.  It  says,  "Keep  yourselves  from  idols."t  J 
If  there  be  one  remaining  idol,  break  it  in 
pieces,  and  spare  it  not.  Nothing  is  so  fruitful 
a  cause  of  suffering  as  idolatry.  Nothing  so 
forcibly  displays  the  vanity  of  our  idols  as  suf- 
fering. It  is  with  this  whip  of  chords  that 
Christ  scourges  out  of  us  the  buyers  and  sellers, 
—suffering  no  earthly  traffic  to  proceed  in  his 
Father's  house. 

I  give  these  warnings  merely  as  specimens ; 
a  few  out  of  many  which  might  be  adduced. 
There  is  no  room  for  citing  more,  though  more 
might  easily  be  found.  The  two  great  points, 

*  James  v.  9.  1 1  Jobu  v.  21. 


142  THE    WARNING. 

against  which  the  warnings  of  chastisement 
are  directed,  seem  to  be,  selfishness  and  world- 
liness.  To  scourge  these  thoroughly  out  of  ua 
is  God's  design. 

1.  Selfishness.  "  All  seek  their  own,  not  the 
things  that  are  Jesus  Christ's."  This  was 
Paul's  complaint,  not  of  the  ungodly,  but  of 
the  churches  of  Christ.  It  was  the  selfishness 
he  saw  in  the  saints  that  gave  occasion  to  these 
sorrowful  words. 

This  selfishness  is  of  various  kinds,  and 
shows  itself  in  various  ways.  It  is  selfishness 
in  reference  to  the  things  of  Christ;  or  in  re- 
ference to  the  Church  of  Christ ;  or  in  reference 
to  the  work  given  us  to  do;  or  in  reference  to 
the  sacrifices  we  are  called  upon  to  undergo, 
and  the  toils  we  are  called  upon  to  endure.  It 
would  be  easy  to  show  how  God's  chastisements 
are  pointed  against  all  these  forms  of  selfish- 
ness, aiming  deadly  blows  at  each  one  of  them 
from  the  outermost  to  the  innermost  circle. 
But  this  is  too  large  a  field.  We  shall  merely 
take  up  the  first,  and  even  it  we  can  only 
touch  upon.  It  is  the  most  important  of  them 
all,  and  stands  so  connected  with  the  rest,  that 
whatever  uproots  it,  destroys  the  others  also. 

Selfishness,  in  reference  to  the  things  of 


THE    WARNING.  143 

Christ,  obviously  springs  from  coldness  to- 
wards Christ  himself.  A  preference  of  self  to 
Christ  is  its  root  and  source  Anything,  there- 
fore, that  tends  to  obscure  or  keep  out  of  view 
the  person  of  Christ  must  lead  to  selfishness. 
It  may  be  the  love  of  the  world ;  it  may  be 
the  love  of  the  creature  ;  it  may  be  the  love 
of  man's  applause.  There  are  the  dark 
bodies  that  eclipse  the  glory  of  a  living  Sa- 
viour and  nourish  self.  But  these  are  not  all. 
Satan  has  deeper  devices  still.  He  brings  in 
religion  between  us  and  the  Saviour  !  Reli- 
gious acts,  ordinances,  duties,  are  all  turned 
by  him  into  so  many  instruments  for  exalting 
self  and  lowering  the  Saviour.  But  even  this 
is  not  all.  He  has  a  subtler  device  still  for 
these  last  days.  He  is  trying  to  make  the 
work  of  Christ  a  substitute  for  his  person  ;  to 
fix  attention  so  much  upon  the  one  as  to  ex- 
clude the  other.  The  result  of  this  is  a  tho- 
roughly selfish  and  sectarian  religion.  I  know 
this  is  delicate  ground,  but  the  evil  is  an  aug- 
menting one  and  ought  to  be  made  known. 

There  are  not  a  few  who  are  so  occupied 
with  truth  that  they  forget  "  the  True  One :'" 
so  occupied  with  faith  that  they  lose  sight  of 
its  personal  object :  so  given  to  dwelling  upon 


144  THE    WARNING. 

the  work  of  Christ,  that  they  overlook  his 
person.  They  seem  to  regard  the  latter  sub- 
ject as  a  matter  if  not  beyond  them,  at  least 
one  about  which  it  will  be  time  enough  to 
concern  themselves  when  they  see  him  face  to 
face.  What  He  is  seems  a  question  of  small 
importance,  provided  they  know  that  he  has 
accomplished  a  work  by  which  they  may 
secure  eternal  life.  "  We  are  forgiven,"  they 
say,  "  we  have  peace, — all  is  well."  They 
take  but  little  interest  in  the  person  of  him 
who  has  purchased  these  blessings.  The 
redemption  is  all,  and  the  Redeemer  is 
nothing,  or,  at  least,  very  little  !  The  suffi- 
ciency of  his  work  is  all,  the  glory  and  excel- 
lence of  his  person,  nothing !  What  is  this 
but  selfishness  ?  We  get  all  the  benefit  we 
can  out  of  the  work  of  Christ,  and  then  leave 
himself  alone !  And  this  selfishness  intro- 
duces itself  everywhere  into  the  actings  and 
thinkings  of  this  class.  We  can  trace  it  in 
the  mould  of  their  doctrines.  Their  views  of 
the  atonement  are  selfish ;  being  framed  not 
upon  the  principle  of  how  God  is  to  get  his 
purpose  fulfilled,  and  his  glory  displayed ;  but 
simply  of  how  a  sinner  is  to  be  saved.  Their 
views  of  Jehovah's  sovereignty  and  electing 


THE   WARNING.  145 

grace  are  selfish  ;  being  just  so  many  devices 
for  taking  the  sinner  out  of  God's  hands,  and 
placing  him  in  his  own.  Their  views  of 
the  Spirit's  work  are  selfish ;  being  just  an 
attempt  to  make  His  aid  appear  less  abso- 
lutely indispensable,  and  man's  own  skill  and 
strength  of  very  considerable  avail  in  the 
matter  of  salvation.  But  even  where  those 
selfish  views  of  doctrine  have  not  been 
adopted,  there  is  a  latent  tendency  towards 
selfishness  among  many ;  which  can  only  be 
ascribed  to  their  neglect  of  the  person  of 
Christ. 

But  what  has  chastisement  to  do  with  this? 
Much  every  way.  Chiefly  in  this,  that  it 
throws  us  more  entirely  for  consolation  and 
strength  upon  the  person  of  the  Saviour. 
Never  do  we  feel  more  brought  into  contact 
with  a  living  personal  Saviour  than  in  our 
days  of  sorrow.  It  is  Jesus, — Jesus  alone, — 
Jesus  himself, — that  we  feel  to  be  absolutely 
necessary.  The  truth  is  precious ;  his  work 
is  precious ;  but  it  is  himself  that  we  then 
prize  so  much ;  it  is  with  himself  that  we 
have  chiefly  to  do;  it  is  to  himself  that  we 
pour  out  our  sorrows. 

Thus  by  creating  a  necessity  for  our  lean- 
13 


146  THE   WARNING. 

ing  on  the  person  of  Jesus  (blessed  necessity  !) 
affliction  strikes  at  that  which  was  the  root 
of  selfishness.  By  bringing  before  us  another 
and  far  more  glorious  self,  it  absorbs  our  own 
miserable  self ;  till  in  the  person  of  Jesus,  we 
lose  sight  of  our  own  selves  altogether. 
There  is  nothing  that  so  makes  us  acquainted 
with  Christ  himself  as  sorrow  ;  and  hence, 
there  is  nothing  so  efficacious  in  eradicating 
self.  It  is  God's  cure  for  selfishness.  It  is 
his  way  of  making  us  seek  not  our  own,  but 
the  things  that  are  Jesus  Christ's.  It  is  his 
way  of  carrying  us  beyond  truth,  even  to 
"  Him  that  is  true."  Truth  is  precious,  but 
in  itself  it  is  cold.  But  the  glory  of  the 
gospel  is  this,  that  it  carries  us  up  beyond 
truth,  to  its  living  fountain-head.  Nay,  it 
brings  us  into  the  very  bosom  of  him  who 
came  out  of  the  Father's  bosom,  and  has  now 
returned  to  it  carrying  with  him  all  those 
whom  the  Father  hath  given  him,  there,  with 
him  to  abide  in  happy  fellowship,  world  with- 
out end. 

This,  however,  is  a  large  subject,  and  these 
are  but  a  few  hints.  We  cannot,  however, 
pursue  them  farther  here.  We  pass  on  to 


THE   WARNING.  147 

notice  the  other  evil  against  which  the  re- 
bukes of  God  are  directed. 

2.  Worldliness.  We  have  seen  that  God's 
cure  for  selfishness  is  the  setting  before  us 
another  self,  to  absorb  our  own,  in  the  person 
of  Jesus.  We  have  now  to  see  that  his  cure 
for  worldliness  is  the  bringing  before  us 
another  world,  more  glorious  than  that  which 
he  calls  on  us  to  forsake.  There  is  no 
thorough  cure  for  it  but  this.  It  is  want  of 
faith  that  makes  us  worldlings ;  and  when 
the  believing  eye  gets  fixed  on  the  world  to 
come,  then  we  learn  to  set  our  affections  on 
things  above.  So  long,  however,  as  all  here 
is  bright,  we  are  content  with  them ;  we 
allow  ourselves  to  sink  down,  and  settle  quietly 
among  the  things  of  earth.  But  when  God 
unroofs  our  dwelling,  or  tears  up  its  founda- 
tion by  an  earthquake,  then  we  are  forced  to 
look  upwards  and  seek  a  better  and  more 
enduring  portion.  Many  such  shocks,  how- 
ever, are  often  needed,  before  our  souls  are 
broken  off  from  their  cleaving  to  the  dust. 

The  opposite  of  worldliness  is  heavenly- 
mindedness  or  spiritual-mindedness.  This, 
the  new  relish  which  the  Holy  Spirit  imparts 
at  conversion,  in  some  measure  produces. 


148  THE    WARNING. 

But  it  is  feeble.  It  easily  gives  way.  It  ia 
not  keen  enough  to  withstand  much  tempta- 
tion. God's  wish  is  to  impart  a  keener  relish 
for  the  things  of  God,  and  to  destroy  the 
relish  for  the  things  of  time.  This  he  effects 
by  blighting  all  the  objects  in  which  there 
was  earthly  sweetness,  so  that  by  being  de- 
prived of  objects  to  "  mind"  on  earth,  it  may 
of  necessity  be  led  to  "mind"  the  things 
above.  He  dries  up  all  the  "  nether  springs" 
of  earthly  joy,  that  we  may  betake  ourselves 
to  the  "  upper  springs"  which  can  never  fail. 

There  is  much  worldliness  among  the 
saints.  There  is  worldliness  in  their  motives 
and  actings  ;  worldliness  in  their  domestic  life 
and  in  their  intercourse  with  society ;  there  is 
worldliness  in  the  arrangements  of  their  house- 
holds and  in  the  education  of  their  families ; 
there  is  worldliness  in  their  expenditure,  so 
much  being  laid  out  for  self,  so  little  for  God  ; 
there  is  worldliness  in  their  religious  schemes, 
and  movements,  and  societies  ;  there  is  world- 
liness in  their  reading,  and  in  their  conversa- 
tion ;  there  is,  in  short,  too  much  of  the  spirit 
of  earnest  worldliness  about  their  whole  de- 
portment, and  little  of  calm,  happy  superiority 
to  the  things  of  earth.  They  are  fretted,  dis- 


THE    WARNING.  149 

tirbed,  bustled  just  like  the  world.  They 
grudge  labor,  or  fatigue,  or  expense,  or  annoy- 
ance, in  the  cause  of  Christ,  or  in  serving 
their  fellow-men.  They  have  much  of  earth, 
little  of  heaven  about  them.  They  are  not 
large-hearted,  open-handed, — willing  to  spend 
and  be  spent,  unmoved  and  unruffled,  as  those 
whose  eye  is  ever  set  on  the  incorruptible 
inheritance  on  which  they  so  soon  shall  enter. 
They  are  low  and  unaspiring  in  the  things 
of  God. 

Perhaps  there  are  few  things  against  which 
we  require  to  be  more  warned  than  against  this 
spirit  of  worldliness.  The  church  is  very  prone 
to  forget  her  pilgrim  character  in  this  present 
evil  world,  and  to  live  as  a  citizen  of  earth. 
Her  dignity  as  the  eternally  chosen  of  the  Fa- 
ther, is  lost  sight  of ;  her  hope  as  the  inheritor 
of  the  glory  and  the  kingdom  of  the  Son  is  ob- 
scured. And  oh,  how  much  of  sorrow  she  is 
preparing  for  herself,  by  thus  losing  sight  of  her 
calling  !  What  desolation  may  be  even  now 
hovering  over  the  tabernacle  of  many  a  saint, 
because  they  will  not  come  out  and  be  sepa- 
rate, because  they  refuse  to  be  "  strangers  on 
the  earth  as  all  their  fathers  were."  Sad  it  is, 
13* 


150  THE   WARNING. 

indeed,  that  we  should  need  affliction  to  teach 
us  this ! 

Why  should  we  whose  home,  whose  treasure 
are  above,  ever  again  seek  our  home  01  v»ur 
treasure  here  1  Why  should  we  stoop  from  our 
heavenly  elevation  to  mingle  again  with  the 
company  which  we  have  forsaken  ?  Have  we 
repented  of  our  choice  ?  Are  we  ashamed  of 
our  pilgrim-staff,  and  our  pilgrim- weeds  ? 
Surely  not.  Oh,  if  to  be  a  stranger  on  earth  be 
to  be  divided  from  sin  and  sinful  appetites, — 
from  the  seducing  vanities  and  worthless  mock- 
eries of  the  world, — from  the  fascinating  beauty 
and  perilous  splendor  of  this  decaying  scene : 
if  to  be  a  stranger  on  earth  be  to  be  a  friend  of 
God,  a  member  of  the  heavenly  household,  an 
expectant  of  the  kingdom,  an  heir  apparent  of 
the  crown  of  glory, — who  would  not  be  a 
stranger  here  ? 

What  higher  honor  would  we  seek  than  to 
share  the  homelessness  of  Jesus,  the  homeless- 
ness  of  the  church  from  the  beginning  ?  Why 
should  we  seek  to  enter  into  nearer  fellowship, 
and  dearer  relationship,  with  such  a  world  as 
this  ?  If  we  knew  of  no  fairer  heritage,  we 
might  not  be  wondered  at  for  lusting  after  our 
forsaken  pleasures.  But  we  have  the  pleasures 


THE    WARNING.  151 

that  are  at  God's  right  hand  forever,  and  what 
are  earth's  allurements  to  us?  What  to  us  are 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  earth,  who  "  shall  see 
the  King  in  his  beauty,"  a^id  hear  his  voice, 
into  whose  lips  grace  is  poured  ?  What  to  us 
is  the  green  fertility  of  earth,  who  shall  enter 
into  the  possession  of  the  new  earth,  when  "  the 
winter  is  past,  the  rain  over  and  gone  ?"  What 
to  us  is  the  gay  glory  of  a  city's  wealth  and 
pomp,  who  shall  be  made  citizens  of  the  New 
Jerusalam,  where  dwells  the  glory  of  God  and 
of  the  Lamb,  whose  foundations  are  of  precious 
stones,  whose  walls  of  jasper,  whose  gates  of 
pearl,  whose  streets  and  pavements  of  transpa- 
rent gold? 

Let  us.  then,  "pass  the  time  of  our  sojourning 
here  in  fear."  Let  our  loins  be  girt  about,  and 
our  lamps  burning,  and  let  us  be  as  men  ready 
to  go  forth  to  meet  our  returning  Lord.  If  we 
watch  not,  if  we  reject  the  warning,  our  chas- 
tisement will  be  sharp  and  sore. 

The  present  seems  a  time  of  peculiar  warn- 
ing to  the  saints.  Many  are  lying  under  the 
rebukes  of  the  Lord.  Judgment  has  begun  at 
the  house  of  God.  God  is  dealing  very  closely 
and  very  solemnly  with  his  own.  On  many 
a  saint,  at  this  moment,  is  his  rod  lying  hea- 


lO/i  THE    WARNING. 

vily.  For  he  would  fain  warn  and  arouse  them 
ere  the  evil  day  arrive.  He  is  dealing  with 
them  as  he  dealt  with  Lot  on  the  night  before 
the  desolation  of  Sodom.  Let  the  saints,  then, 
be  warned.  Let  them  be  zealous  and  repent, 
and  do  their  first,  works.  Come  out,  be  sepa- 
rate, touch  not  the  unclean  thing  !  Put  off  the 
works  of 'darkness  ;  put  on  the  armor  of  light. 
He  is  calling  on  them  to  get  up  to  a  higher 
level  in  the  spiritual  life ;  to  have  done  with 
wavering,  indecision,  and  compromise.  He  is 
calling  on  them  to  consider  the  Apostle  and 
High  Priest  of  their  profession,  and  walk  in  his 
steps.  He  is  calling  on  them  to  look  at  the 
cloud  of  witnesses,  and  lay  aside  every  weight, 
especially  that  sin  (of  unbelief)  which  doth  so 
easily  beset  them,  and  to  run  with  patience  the 
race  set  before  them, — "  looking  unto  Jesus." 

Church  of  the  living  God !  Be  warned. 
Please  not  thyself,  even  as  Jesus  pleased  not 
himself.  Live  for  him,  not  for  thyself;  for  him, 
not  for  the  world.  Walk  worthy  of  thy  name 
and  calling  ;  worthy  of  him  who  bought  thee 
as  his  bride ;  worthy  of  thine  everlasting  in- 
heritance. 

Up,  too,  and  warn  the  world  !  The  chas- 
tisements that  are  falling  so  thickly  on  thee 


THE    WARNING.  153 

are  forerunners  of  the  fiery  shower  that  is  pre-  "^) 
paring  for  the  earth.  Up,  then,  and  warn 
them — urge  and  entreat  them  to  flee  from 
gathering  wrath.  They  have  no  tirrie  to  lose ; 
neither  hast  thou.  The  last  storm  is  on  the 
wing.  Its  dark  skirts  are  already  visible  in  the 
heavens.  Judgment  has  begun  at  the  house 
of  God,  and  if  so,  then,  what  shall  the  end  be 
of  them  that  obey  not  the  gospel  of  God  ! 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE     RECOLLECTIONS. 

"  HE  hath  made  his  wonderful  works  to  be 
remembered."*  Yes,  they  are  for  "  everlasting 
remembrance."  They  are  not  meant  to  be 
forgotten,  and,  therefore,  they  are  so  made  as 
to  render  forgetfulness  almost  impossible.  Still 
we  lose  sight  of  them.  They  pass  away  "  like 
a  tale  that  is  told." 

Amongst  the  most  wonderful  of  God's  works 
are  his  chastisements.  They  are  to  be  specially 
remembered  by  us.  In  themselves  they  are 
worthy  of  this.  In  their  connection  with  us 
still  more  so.  None  are  so  ineffaceable,  fox 
none  are  written  so  deep  upon  the  heart.  They 
are  entwined  with  all  that  we  feared  or  hoped 
in  other  days.  They  are  '-graven  with  an 
iron  pen,  and  with  lead  in  the  rock  for  ever." 
No  pen  is  like  that  of  sorrow,  for  writing  inde- 
libly  upon  the  soul. 

Simply  as  sorrow,  God's  dealings  with  us  are 
uot  likely  to  be  soon  forgotten.  We  take 
*  Ps.  cxi.  4. 


THE    RECOLLECTIONS.  155 

pleasure  in  recalling  our  tears  and  griefs.  But 
this  is  often  mere  selfish  melancholy,  brooding 
in  solitude  over  a  strange  history.  Sometimes, 
too,  it  is  pride.  We  take  a  proud  pleasure  in 
thinking  that  none  have  ever  suffered  as  we 
have  done.  Sometimes  it  is  worldly  sentiment, 
sitting  down  to  muse  over  faded  blossoms,  or  to 
recall  the  images  of  suns  long  set,  or  it  may  be 
to  contrast  the  decay  of  earth  with  the  abiding 
oeauty  of  yon  unwrinkled  azure. 

But  this  is  not  what  God  desires.  It  is  not 
the  remembrance  of  sorrow  merely  that  he 
seeks,  but  of  sorrow  as  chastisement, — of  sor- 
row as  linked  all  along  with  his  gracious  deal- 
ings towards  us.  The  natural  heart  separates 
these  two  things.  It  remembers  the  one  but 
forgets  the  other,  and  so  frustrates  God's  de- 
sign. Himself  he  ever  presents  to  us ;  himself 
he  strives  to  keep  before  us,  not  simply  as  con- 
nected with  all  our  present  and  all  our  future 
history,  but  as  inseparably  entwined  with  all 
the  PAST. 

It  was  thus  that  he  expressed  his  mind  to 
Israel  regarding  this  very  thing.  "  Thou  shalt 
remember  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy 
God  led  thee  these  forty  years  in  the  wilder- 
ness, to  humble  thee,  and  to  prove  thee,  to 


156  THE    RECOLLECTIONS. 

know  what  was  in  thine  heart,  whether  thou 
wouldst  keep  his  commandments  or  no.  And 
he  humbled  thee,  and  suffered  thee  to  hunger, 
and  fed  thee  with  manna,  which  thou  knewest 
not,  neither  did  thy  fathers  know ;  that  he 
might  make  thee  know  that  man  doth  not 
live  by  bread  only,  but  by  every  word  that 
proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  God  doth  man 
live.  Thy  raiment  waxed  not  old  upon  thee, 
neither  did  thy  foot  swell  these  forty  years. 
Thou  shall  also  consider  in  thine  heart,  that, 
as -a  man  chasteneth  his  son,  so  the  Lord  thy 
God  chasteneth  thee."*  These  recollections 
of  the  wilderness  he  wished  to  write  upon 
Israel's  heart  forever.  He  evidently  lays  much 
stress  on  this.  He  would  not  have  them  lose 
the  benefit  of  their  desert-wanderings,  and  his 
desert  dealings.  They  were  too  precious  to 
be  forgotten.  Forty  years  close  and  solitary 
intercourse  with  God  in  such  various  ways, 
ought  to  have  taught  them  much,  both  of  him 
and  of  themselves,  which  deserved  everlasting 
memory.  Each  name  had  some  wondrous 
scene  attached  to  it ;  each  rock  had  its  story 
to  tell.  Their  enemies  and  dangers  ;  their 
hunger  and  their  thirst ;  the  manna  and  the 
*  Deut  viil  2—5. 


THE    RECOLLECTIONS.  157 

water ;  the  murmu rings  and  the  thanksgiv- 
ings ;  their  journeys  and  their  encampments ; 
their  raiment  that  waxed  not.  old  ;  their  shoes 
that  were  as  iron  and  brass ;  their  feet  that 
swelled  not:  and  above  all,  the  cloud  that 
rested  over  them,  and  the  tent  of  Jehovah 
that  was  pitched  in  the  midst  of  them.  These 
were  memorable  scenes.  And  they  were  all 
connected  with  the  wilderness.  Never  before 
had  there  been  such  an  assemblage  of  won- 
drous dealings,  and  never  since  has  anything 
like  this  been  seen  on  earth.  It  could  occur 
but  once.  And  that  once  was  to  furnish  mat- 
ter for  remembrance  to  Israel,  descending  as  a 
precious  heritage  to  their  children,  and  their 
children's  children  for  ever. 

It  is  thus  with  the  saint  in  reference  to  his 
desert  days  and  desert  trials.  They  must  not 
be  forgotten  as  if  they  had  served  their  pur- 
pose. They  must  be  ever  rising  before  us, — 
not  merely  preserved  in  memory  like  the 
manna  in  the  ark,  but  brought  forth  to  feed 
upon  every  day.  In  this  way  sorrow  may  be 
most  profitable  to  us  long  after  its  bitterness 
has  passed  away.  It  may  furnish  us  with  a 
treasury  of  blessings  for  a  lifetime.  It  may 
be  a  mine  of  gold  to  us  all  our  days. 


15S  THE    RECOLLECTIONS. 

We  are  too  little  aware  of  this.  We  look 
on  trial  too  much  as  we  do  upon  a  passing 
shower,  which  falla  and  then  is  gone. 
Whereas,  it  is  truly  the  smiting  of  the  rock 
and  the  issuing  forth  of  a  new  stream,  whose 
waters  are  to  keep  us  company  through  all 
our  days  of  wandering.  The  benefits  of  chas- 
tisement should  never  be  exhausted.  They 
should  be  coming  forth  in  freshness  with  every 
hour.  Even  when  sitting  calmly  in  the  sun- 
shine we  may  be  drawing  profit  from  the 
stormy  past.  This  is  consolation  to  the  chas- 
tened soul ;  for  how  often  in  this  way  will  a 
short  sorrow  be  turned  into  lasting  gladness. 
And  it  does  seem  as  if  what  is  thus  obtained 
by  us  were  a  richer  kind  of  blessing,  a  holier, 
deeper  joy.  Oh,  let  us  remember  past  trials 
and  carefully  treasure  them  up  as  the  choicest 
of  our  earthly  possessions.  The  saint  who 
has  many  of  these  to  look  back  upon,  has 
some  reason  to  glory  in  his  inheritance.* 

It  is  this  that  especially  exercises  that  soft- 

*  "Truly  no  cross  should  be  old  to  us.  We  should  not 
forget  them,  because  years  are  come  betwixt  us  and  them,  arid 
cast  them  by  hand  as  we  do  old  clothes.  We  may  make  a 
cross  old  in  time  new  in  use,  and  as  fruitful  as  in  the  begin- 
ning of  it." — /S.  Rutherford. 


THE    RECOLLECTIONS.  159 

erring,  mellowing  influence  which  has  been 
often  observed  in  affliction.  During  the 
actual  pressure  of  the  sorrow  there  was  less 
of  this.  Perhaps  we  were  so  stunned  and 
stupified,  as  almost  to  be  deprived  of  feeling. 
Or  if  we  did  feel,  still  there  was  so  much  of 
sharpness  and  bitterness  about  it  that  we  were 
bruised  rather  than  softened.  There  was 
such  a  struggle,  and  such  confusion  of  spirit 
thav  we  sometimes  wondered  if  we  were  pro- 
fiting ai  all,  and  thought  that  the  sorrow  was 
too  great  to  be  productive  of  benefit. 

But  in  the  retrospect  all  is  different.  "  No 
chastening  for  the  present  seemeth  to  be  joy- 
ous but  grievous  ;  nevertheless,  afterwards  it 
yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness 
unto  them  which  are  exercised  thereby."  The 
wound  has  ceased  to  bleed,  and,  though  it 
will  remain  a  scar  forever,  it  is  no  longer  open. 
It  is  then  that  the  mellowing  process  goes  on, 
and  each  remembrance  of  the  past  helps  it 
forward.  This  is  less  perceptible  than  the 
others  :  we  are  not  so  directly  conscious  of  it ; 
but  its  silent  influence  upon  our  character, 
our  temper,  our  will,  pur  judgment,  is  wonder- 
ful. The  death-bed,  the  farewell,  the  funeral- 
scene,  the  open  tomb,  the  earth  striking  rudely 


160  THE   RECOLLECTIONS. 

on  the  coffin,  the  grave  filled  up,  the  turf  rolled 
on  by  stranger  hands  ;  these  are  like  swords 
going  through  the  very  vitals.  But  they  sad- 
den more  than  they  soften.  It  is  the  remem- 
brance of  these  scenes,  the  frequent  visit  to 
the  closed  tomb,  the  calm  after-inquiry  into 
and  meditation  upon  God's  meaning  in  all 
this ; — it  is  these  that  so  gently  exercise  a 
whole  life-time's  influence  upon  the  soul. 
They  surround  us  with  a  softening  atmos- 
phere, and  the  light  they  shed  down  on  us  is 
the  light  of  sunset,  mellowed  and  shaded  in 
its  passage  through  the  clouds  of  evening. 

In  another  way  also  these  recollections  are 
precious.  They  teach  us  that  God  is  true. 
The  trials  themselves  taught  us  this ;  but 
their  remembrance  teaches  us  this  yet  more. 
And  it  is  a  lesson  which  even  the  saints  need 
much  to  learn.  Even  they  need  to  be  taught 
how  surely  He  is  the  AMEN,  "  the  faithful  and 
the  true  ;"  and  that  in  all  that  he  has  spoken 
to  his  church  he  has  spoken  truly.  What 
refreshing  confirmations  of  this  do  we  gather 
up  as  we  call  to  mind  the  past  and  see  how 
the  Lord  hath  led  us.  We  can  add  our  Amen 
every  day  to  what  Joshua  declared  to  Israel 
•Q  his  death-bed.  "Behold  this  day  I  am 


THE   RECOLLECTIONS.  161 

going  the  way  of  all  the  earth  and  ye  know 
in  all  your  hearts,  and  in  all  your  souls  that 
not  one  thing  hath  failed  of  all  the  good 
things  which  the  Lord  your  God  spake  con- 
cerning you :  all  are  come  to  pass  unto  you, 
and  not  one  thing  hath  failed  thereof."* 

Yes,  "all "things  work  together  for  our 
good," — the  past  as  well  as  the  present.  And 
thus  the  stream  of  which  we  drink  is  a  swell- 
ing one.  Innumerable  tributaries  are  flowing 
into  it.  This  year  it  is  "  to  the  ancles." 
Next  year  it' will  be  "to  the  knees."  After 
that  it  will  rise  "  to  the  loins."  And  as  it 
reaches  the  ocean,  bearing  us  calmly  on  its 
bosom,  it  will  be  a  great  river  "  that  cannot 
be  passed  over." 

Yet  oh,  how  little  have  the  saints  learned  to 
prize  these  memorials  of  chastisement ;  these 
recollections  of  the  wilderness,  which  are  so 
rich  in  instruction,,  so  fraught  with  blessing 
and  with  joy ! 

*  Joshua  xxxii.  14. 

u* 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE     CONSOLATION. 

"  To  bring  many  sons  unto  glory,"  was  the 
end  for  which  the  Son  of  God  took  flesh  and 
died.  This  was  no  common,  no  inferior  object. 
So  vast  and  worthy  did  Jehovah  deem  it  that 
it  pleased  him  for  the  attaining  of  it  to  "make 
the  captain  of  our  salvation  perfect  through 
suffering."  It  was  an  object  worthy  of  the 
God  "  for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom 
are  all  things."  It  was  an  object  glorious 
enough  to  render  it  "  becoming "  in  him  to 
make  Jesus  pass  through  suffering  and  death, 
and  to  justify  the  Father  in  not  sparing  his 
only  begotten  Son.* 

They  for  whom  God  has  done  all  this  must 
be  very  precious  in  his  sight.  He  must  be 
much  in  earnest  indeed  to  bless  them  and  to 
take  them  to  be  with  Him  forever.  As  he  so 
delighted  in  Enoch  that  he  could  no  longer  bear 
the  separation  and  the  distance,  but  took  him  to 
be  with  Him  without  tasting  death,  and  long  ero 
he  had  run  the  common  race  of  man,  so  witli 
his  saints.  He  is  making  haste  to  bring  them 
to  glory,  foi  the  day  of  absence  has  been  long. 
*  Heb.  ii.  10. 


THE    CONSOLATION.  163 

The  glory  which  he  has  in  reserve  for  them 
must  be  surpassing  glory,  for  it  was  to  bring 
them  to  it  that  he  was  willing  to  bruise  his  Son 
and  to  put  him  to  grief.  Eye  hath  not  seen  it; 
ear  hath  not  heard  it ;  it  is  far  beyond  what 
we  can  comprehend,  yet  it  is  all  reality.  God 
is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  our  God  because 
he  hath  prepared  for  us  a  city.  Were  that 
city  not  worthy  of  himself  he  would  be  ashamed 
to  have  called  himself  by  the  name  of  "our 
God."  For  that  implies  large  blessings  on  his 
part,  and  it  leads  to  large  expectations  on  ours, 
expectations  which  he  cannot  disappoint. 

He  did  not  count  this  glory  to  be  bought  for 
us  at  too  dear  a  rate,  even  though  the  price 
was  the  sufferings  of  His  only  begotten  Son. 
If,  then.  God  thus  estimated  the  glory  to  which 
we  were  to  be  brought,  shall  not  \ve  do  the 
same  ?  If  he  thought  it  worth  all  the  suffer- 
ings of  His  Son,  shall  we  not  think  it  worth  out 
poor  sufferings  here  ?  Shall  we  not  say,  "  I 
reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time 
are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
which  shall  be  revealed  in  us."* 

This  is  consolation.  It  is  that  which  most 
naturally  occurs  to  us,  and  it  is  both  scriptural 
and  effectual.  This  is  what  is  usually  pre- 

*  Rom.  viii.  18. 


164  THE    CONSOLATION. 

sented  to  the  afflicted  saint,  and  it  is  what  he 
feels  to  be  very  precious  and  suitable.  But 
though  the  most  common  and  the  most  natural 
consolation,  it  is  by  no  means  the  only  one. 
Let  us  suggest  a  few  others. 

1.  Jesus  weeps  with  us.    "In  ALL  our  afflic- 
tion he  is  afflicted."     He  knows  our  sorrows, 
for  he  has  passed  through  them  all,  and  there- 
fore he  feels  for  us.     He  is  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  our  griefs  as  well  as  of  our  infirmi- 
ties.    Man,  very  man, — man  all  over,  even  in 
his  glory  he  enters  most  fully  into  the  fellow- 
ship of  our  burdens  and  sorrows,  whatever  these 
may  be  ;  for  there  is  not  one  which  he  did  not 
taste  when  he  "dwelt  among  us"  here.     His 
is  sympathy,  deep,  real,  and  true.     It  is  no 
fiction,  no  fancy.    We  do  not  see  his  tears  fall- 
ing upon  us  ;  neither  do  we  clasp  his  hand  nor 
feel  the  beating  of  his  heart  against  ours.    But 
still  his  communion  with  us  in  suffering  is  a 
reality.     We  may  not  understand  how  it  can 
be.    But  He  understands  it ;  and  he  can  make 
us  feel  it,  whether  we  can  comprehend  it  or  not. 

2.  We   are   made  partakers   of  Christ's 
silverings.     What   honor  is  this !     We  arc 
baptized  with  his  baptism ;   we  drink  of  his 
cup,  we  are  made  like  him  in  sorrow  as  we 
shall  hereafter  be  made  like  him  in  joy !    How 


THE    CONSOLATION.  166 

soothing  and  sustaining !  If  reproach,  and 
shame,  and  poverty  are  ours ;  let  us  remember 
that  they  were  his  also.  If  we  have  to  go 
down  to  Gethsemane,  or  up  to  the  cross ;  let  us 
think  that  he  was  there  before  us.  It  is  when 
keeping  our  eye  on  this  that  we  are  brought 
somewhat  to  realize  the  feeling  of  the  Apostle, 
when  he  "  rejoiced  in  his  sufferings"  for  the 
church,  as  "filling  up  that  which  was  behind 
(literally  the  leavings  of  Christ's  sufferings)  of 
the  sufferings  of  Christ  in  his  flesh  for  his 
body's  sake,  which  is  the  church."*  To  be 
treated  better  than  Christ  was,  is  neither  what 
a  thoughtful  soul  could  expect,  nor  what  a 
loving  heart  could  desire. 

3.  Suffering  is  the  family  lot.  This  we 
have  already  dwelt  upon,  and  we  recur  to  it 
simply  to  present  it  more  prominently  as  a 
consolation.  The  path  of  sorrow  is  no  unfre- 
quented way.  All  the  saints  have  trodden  it. 
We  can.  trace  their  foot-prints  there.  It  is 
comforting,  nay,  it  is  cheering  to  keep  this  in 
mind.  Were  we  cast  fettered  into  some  low 
dungeon,  would  it  not  be  consolation  to  know 
that  many  a  martyr  had  been  there  before  us, 
would  it  not  be  cheering  to  read  their  names 
written  with  their  own  hand?  all  round  the 
*  Col.  i.  24. 


166  THE    CONSOLATION. 

ancient  walls?  Such  is  the  solace  we  may 
extract  from  all  suffering ;  for  the  furnace  into 
which  we  are  cast  has  been  consecrated  by 
many  a  saint  already. 

4.  All  things  work  together  for  our  good. 
Nothing  is  unsuitable,  unseasonable,  or  unpro- 
fitable.    Out   of  all   evil   comes  good  to  the 
saints ;  out  of  all  darkness  comes  light ;  out 
of  all  sorrow  comes  joy.     Each  pang,  sharp  or 
slight,  is  doing  its  work, — the  very  work  which 
God  designs,  the  very  work  which  we  could 
not  do  without.   The  bed  of  sorrow  is  not  only 
like  Solomon's  chariot,  all  "  paved  with  love ;" 
but,  like  it,  moves  on  with  mighty  swiftness, 
bearing  us  most  blessedly  onwards  to  the  in- 
heritance  of  the   undefiled.     The  forces   of 
earth,    unless   they  all   bear   in   one  line,  or 
nearly  so,  tend  to  counteract  each  other,  and 
arrest  the  common  impulse.     But  the   forces 
which  God  brings  to  bear  upon  us  in  affliction 
are    all    directly    and    necessarily   impulsive. 
Come  from  what  quarter  they  may,  or  from 
opposite  quarters  all  at  once,  they  still  bear  us 
successfully  forward.     "All  things  work  toge- 
ther for  our  good."     "  All  things  are  ours." 

5.  There  is  special  grace  for  every  trial. 
As  trials  bring  to  light  the  weakness  that  is  in 
us,  so  they  draw  out  to  meet  that  the  strength 


THE    CONSOLATION.  167 

of  God  : — new  resources  of  strength  and  grace 
which  we  never  knew  before.  In  affliction  we 
may  be  quite  sure  of  learning  something  more 
of  God  than  we  were  acquainted  with  before  : 
for  it  is  just  in  order  to  furnish  an  opportunity 
for  bringing  out  this,  and  showing  it  to  us,  that 
he  sends  the  trial.  How  little  should  we  know 
of  him  were  it  not  for  sorrow  !  What  fulness 
of  blessing  comes  out  to  us,  what  riches  of  love 
are  spread  out  before  us  in  the  dark  and  cloudy 
day  ! 

6.  Affliction  is  our  fullest  opportunity  for 
glorifying  God.  It  is  on  earth  that  he  ex- 
pects to  get  glory  from  us,  glory  such  as  angels 
cannot  give,  glory  such  as  we  shall  not  be  able 
to  give  hereafter.  It  is  here  that  we  are  to 
preach  to  angels ;  it  is  here  we  are  to  show  to 
them  what  a  glorious  God  is  ours.  Our  whole 
life  below  is  given  us  for  this.  But  it  is  espe- 
cially in  sorrow  and  under  infirmity  that  God 
looks  for  glory  from  us.  What  a  glorifying 
thing  in  the  eye  of  men  and  angels,  to  see  a 
poor  worm  of  the  dust,  a  poor  frail,  sinful  mor- 
tal carrying  on  successful  warfare  with  the 
powers  of  hell  without,  and  the  strength  of 
sin  within  !  (  What  a  God-honoring  thing  to 
see  a  struggling  sorrowing  child  of  earth 
cleaving  fast  to  God,  calmly  trusting  in  him, 


168  THE    CONSOLATION. 

happy  and  at  rest  in  the  midst  of  storm  and 
and  suffering !  What  a  spectacle  for  the  hosts 
of  heaven  !  Now,  then,  is  the  time  for  the 
saints  to  give  glory  to  the  Lord  their  God.  Let 
them  prize  affliction,  as  the  very  time  and  op- 
portunity for  doing  so,  most  of  all.  Let  them 
use  such  a  season  well.  And  oh  what  conso- 
lation to  think  that  affliction  is  really  such  a 
season.  Ah,  surely  it  is  one  which  an  angel 
might  covet,  which  an  archangel  would  gladly 
stoop  to  were  that  possible.  They  can  glorify 
God  much  in  heaven  amid  its  glory  and  bless- 
edness, but  oh,  not  half  so  much  as  we  can  do 
on  earth  amid  suffering  and  shame. 

7.  We  are  getting  quit  of  sin.  Each  pain 
is  a  nail  driven  through  some  sin,  another  blow 
inflicted  on  the  flesh,  destroying  the  very  power 
of  sinning.  As  we  entered  on  our  first  life,  sin 
fastened  its  chain  upon  us,  and  link  after  link 
twined  itself  about  us.  When  we  commenced 
our  second  and  better  life,  these  began  one  by 
one  to  untwine  themselves.  Affliction  un- 
twined them  faster ;  and  though  it  is  not  till 
we  are  laid  on  a  death-bed  or  till  Jesus  come, 
that  the  last  link  of  earth  is  thoroughly  un- 
twined or  broken,  still  it  is  consolation  to  think 
that  each  successive  trial  is  helping  on  the 
blessed  consummation.  A  lifetime's  sufferings 


THE    CONSOLATION.  lOJ 

would  not  be  too  long  or  too  heavy,  if  by 
means  of  them  we  got  rid  of  sin  and  sinful 
ways  and  tempers ;  and  became  more  holy, 
more  heavenly,  more  conformable  to  the  image 
of  the  Lord.  When  first  we  believed  in  Jesus. 
we  were  "  delivered  from  a  present  evil  world." 
Yet  this  deliverance  is  not  complete.  The 
world  and  we  have  not  yet  fully  parted  com> 
pany  with  each  other.  And,  therefore,  God 
drives  affliction  like  a  wedge  between  us  and 
the  world ;  or  he  sends  it  like  a  ploughshare 
right  across  our  most  cherished  hopes  and 
brightest  prospects,  till  he  thoroughly  wearies 
us  of  all  below.  "  He  hath  made  me  weary," 
said  Job.  Nor  do  we  wonder  at  the  complaint. 
Wearisome  nights  were  his.  The  "  ploughers 
ploughed  upon  his  back,"  and  drew  many  a 
long  furrow  there.  He  might  well  be  weary. 
So  with  us.  God  makes  us  weary  too ;  weary 
all  over, — thoroughly  weary.  We  get  weary 
of  a  present  evil  world,  weary  of  self,  weary  of 
sin,  weary  of  suffering,  weary  of  this  mortal 
body,  weary  of  these  vile  hearts,  weary  of 
earth, — weary  of  all  but  Jesus  !  Of  him,  no 
trial  can  weary  us.  Suffering  only  endears 
him  the  more.  Blessed  suffering,  that  makes 
him  appear  more  precious,  and  the  world  moi« 
15 


170  THE    CONSOLATION. 

vile  ;  that  brings  him  nearer  to  our  hearts,  and 
thrusts  the  world  away ! 

8.  We  are  preparing  for  usefulness  while 
here.     We  have  but  a  few  years  below,  and  it 
concerns  us  much  that  these  should  be  useful 
years.     We  have  but  one  life,  and  it  must  be 
laid  out  for  God.     But  we  need  preparation 
for  usefulness.    We  need  a  thorough  breaking 
down ;  a  thorough  emptying,  a  thorough  bruis- 
ing.    God  cannot  trust  us  with  success  till  we 
are  thus  laid  low.    We  are  not  fit  to  receive  it; 
nor  would  he  get  the  glory.   Therefore  he  sends 
sore  and  heavy  trials,  in  order  to  make  us  vessels 
fit  for  the  master's  use.   And  oftentimes  we  see 
that  the  heaviest  trials  are  forerunners  of  our 
greatest  usefulness.  When  we  are  entirely  pros- 
trated and  crushed,  then  it  is  safe  to  grant  us 
success,  for  God  gets  all  the  glory.     And  oh, 
what  wonders  has  God  often  done  by  bruised 
reeds  !   Yea,  it  is  the  bruised  reed  that  is  often- 
est  the  instrument  in  his  hand  for  working  his 
mighty  signs  and  wonders.    What  consolation 
is  this !     Suffering  is  stripped  of  half  its  bitter- 
ness, if  it  thus  brings  with  it  a  double  portion  of 
the  Spirit,  and  fits  for  double  usefulness  on  earth. 

9.  We  have  the  Holy  Spirit  as  our  Com- 
forter.   He  is  mighty  to  comfort  as  well  as  to 
sanctify.    His  name  is  "  the  Comforter."    His 


THE    CONSOLATION.  171 

office  is  to  console.  And  in  the  discharge  of 
this  office  he  puts  forth  his  power,  not  only 
mediately  and  indirectly  through  the  word,  but 
immediately  and  directly  upon  the  soul,  sus- 
taining and  strengthening  it  when  fainting  and 
troubled.  It  is  consolation  unspeakable  to  know 
that  there  is  a  hand,  a  divine  and  omnipotent 
hand,  laid  upon  our  wounded  spirit,  not  only 
upholding  it,  but  drying  up,  as  it  were,  the  very 
springs  of  grief  within.  In  the  day  of  oppres- 
sive sorrow,  when  bowed  down  to  the  dust, 
what  is  it  that  we  feel  so  much  our  need  of  as 
a  hand  that  can  come  into  close  and  direct 
contact  with  our  souls,  to  lift  them  up  and 
strengthen  them?  For  it  is  here  that  hu- 
man consolation  fails.  Friends  can  say  much 
to  soothe  us,  but  they  cannot  lay  their  finger 
upon  the  hidden  seat  of  sorrow.  They  can 
put  their  hand  around  the  fainting  body ;  but 
not  around  the  fainting  spirit.  To  that  they 
have  only  distant  and  indirect  access.  But 
here  the  heavenly  aid  comes  in.  The  Spirit 
throws  around  us  the  everlasting  arms,  and  we 
are  invincibly  upheld.  We  cannot  sink,  for  he 
sustains,  he  comforts,  he  cheers.  And  who 
knows  so  well  as  he,  how  to  sustain,  and  com- 
fort, and  cheer? 

10.   The  time  is  short.    We  have  not  a  pil- 


172  THE    CONSOLATION. 

grimage  like  Seth's  or  Noah's,  or  even  like 
Abraham's,  to  pass  through.  Ours  is  but  a 
hand-breadth  in  comparison  with  theirs.  We 
have  not  many  days  to  suffer,  nor  many  nights 
to  watch,  even  though  our  whole  life  were  rilled 
up  with  weary  days  and  sleepless  nights.  "  Our 
light  affliction  is  but  for  a  moment."  And  be- 
sides the  briefness  of  our  earthly  span,  we  know 
that  the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh. 
This  is  consolation,  for  it  tells  not  only  of  the 
end  of  our  tribulation,  but  of  the  beginning  of 
our  triumph  ;  nay,  and  not  only  of  our  indi- 
vidual rest  from  trouble  ;  but  of  the  rest  and 
deliverance  of  the  whole  church  together.  For 
then  the  whole  "  body  of  Christ,"  waking  or 
sleeping,  shall  be  glorified  with  their  glorified 
Lord,  and  everlasting  joy  shall  be  upon  their 
heads.  In  the  day  of  bereavement,  the  day  of 
mourning  over  those  who  have  fallen  asleep  in 
Jesus,  this  consolation  is  especially  precious. 
Them  that  sleep  in  Jesus  will  God  bring  with 
him.  And  if  the  Lord  be  near,  the  time  of 
re-union  may  not  be  far  off.  They  that  lie 
down  at  evening  have  a  whole  night's  slumber 
before  them  ;  but  they  who  lie  down  towards 
morning  have,  it  may  be,  but  an  hour  or  less 
till  the  dawn  awakes  them.  So  with  the  dead 
in  Christ,  in  these  last  days.  They  will  not 


THE    CONSOLATION.  173 

have  long  to  sleep,  for  it  is  now  the  fourth 
watch  of  the  night,  and  the  day-star  is  pre- 
paring to  arise.  What  consolation  !  How  it 
soothes  the  pain  of  parting  !  How  it  cheers 
the  wounded  spirit !  "  Awake,  and  sing,  ye 
that  dwell  in  dust,"  is  now  our  watchword 
every  day.  We  take  our  stand  upon  our  watch- 
tower,  and  look  out  amidst  the  darkness  of 
night  for  the  first  streaks  of  morn.  We  lay  our 
ear  to  the  ground  and  listen,  that  amid  all  the 
discord  of  earth,  the  uproar  of  war,  the  tumults 
of  the  nations,  we  may  catch  the  first  sound 
of  our  Lord's  chariot- wheels, — those  chariot- 
wheels  that  are  to  s"weep  in  vengeance  over  the 
field  of  Armageddon,  crushing  the  confederate 
nations  leagued  against  the  Lord  and  his 
anointed,  and  also  to  bring  to  the  bosom  of  the 
long-betrothed  bride,  the  husband  of  her  youth, 
the  desire  of  her  soul,  for  whom,  amid  tears 
and  loneliness,  she  has  waited  for  many  a 
generation,  many  a  century,  in  vain. 

.11.  All  is  love.  Affliction  is  the  expression 
ol  t  atetnal  love.  It  is  from  the  deepest  recess 
of  the  fountain  of  love  that  sorrow  flows  down 
to  us.  And  love  cannot  wrong  us.  It  blesses, 
but  cannot  curse.  Its  utterances  and  actings 
are  all  of  peace  and  gladness.  It  wants  a 
larger  vessel  into  which  to  empty  itself,  and  a 
15* 


174  THE    CONSOLATION. 

deeper  channel  through  which  to  flow.  That 
is  all.  It  seeks  to  make  us  more  susceptible 
of  kindness,  and  then  to  pour  that  kindness  in. 
Yes,  love  is  the  true,  the  one  origin  of  the 
sharpest  stroke  that  ever  fell  upon  a  bleeding 
heart.  The  truth  is,  there  is  no  other  way  of 
accounting  for  affliction  but  this.  Anger  will 
not  account  for  it,  forgetfulness  will  not  account 
for  it,  chance  will  not  account  for  it.  No.  It 
is  simply  impossible  to  trace  it  to  any  cause,  but 
love.  Admit  this  as  its  spring ;  and  all  is  har- 
monious, comely,  perfect.  Deny  it ;  and  all  is 
confusion,  cruelty,  and  darkness.  Chastising 
love  is  the  faithfulest,  purest,  truest,  tenderest, 
deepest  of  all.  Let  this  be  our  consolation. 

Beloved, "  it  is  well."  It  is  GOOD  to  be  afflicted. 
Our  days  of  suffering  here  we  call  days  of 
darkness ;  hereafter  they  will  seem  our  bright- 
est and  fairest.  In  eternity  we  shall  praise 
Jehovah,  most  of  all  for  our  sorrows  and  tears. 
So  blessed  shall  they  then  seem  to  us,  that  we 
shall  wonder  how  we  could  ever  weep  and  sip-h. 
We  shall  then  know  "how  utterly  unworthy 
we  were  of  all  this  grace.  We  did  not  deserve 
anything,  but  least  of  all  to  be  afflicted.  Our 
joys  were  all  of  grace, — pure  grace, — much 
more  our  sorrows.  It  is  out  of  the  "  exceeding 
riches  of  the  grace  of  God"  that  trial  comes. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE     ETERNAL     RESULTS 

"!F  we  suffer  we  shall  also  reign  with 
him."  Of  this  we  are  assured.  Oneness  in 
suffering  here,  is  the  pledge  of  oneness  in 
glory  hereafter.  The  two  things  are  insepara- 
ble. His  shame  is  ours  on  earth  ;  his  glory 
shall  be  ours  in  heaven.  Therefore,  let  us 
"  rejoice,  inasmuch  as  we  are  partakers  of 
Christ's  sufferings,  that  when  his  glory  shall 
be  revealed,  we  may  be  glad  also  with  ex  • 
ceeding  joy."* 

Truly  the  sufferings  of  this  present  life,  are 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
which  shall  be  revealed  in  us.  The  incor- 
ruptible crown  is  so  surpassingly  bright,  and 
the  "inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light"  so 
excellent,  that  we  may  well  be  ashamed  even 
to  speak  of  present  sorrow.  How  will  the 
eternal  light  absorb  the  darkness  here  !  How 
will  the  blessedness  of  the  kingdom  swallow 
up  our  earthly  calamities  and  complaints ! 
One  hour  of  eternity,  one  moment  with  the 
Lord,  will  make  us  utterly  to  forget  a  lifetime's 
desolations. 

*  1  Pet.  iv.  13. 


176          THE  ETERNAL  RESULTS. 

But  more  than  this.  Our  troubles  now  do 
but  enhance  the  coining  joy.  Our  affliction 
is  not  only  "  light,"  not  only  "  but  for  a  mo- 
ment ;"  but  it  worketh  for  us  a  far  more  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  Our 
sorrows  here  are  but  adding  to  the  weight  of 
our  eternal  crown.  In  what  way  they  do  so 
we  are  not  told.  It  is  sufficient  that  we  kno\\ 
upon  God's  authority,  that  such  is  really  the 
case.  Need  we  then  grudge  or  yebel  against 
that  which  is  preparing  for  us  such  glad  and 
sure  results  1 

As  to  the  nature  of  the  recompense,  God  has 
revealed  much  to  us ;  at  least  in  so  far  as 
human  language  and  earthly  figures  can  set  it 
forth.  In  the  epistles  to  the  seven  churches 
of  Asia,  we  have  the  fullest  opening  up  of  this 
manifold  reward.  For  "  him  that  overcometh," 
there  is  an  abundant  "  weight  of  glory"  pro- 
vided. To  each  of  the  seven  conquerors  there 
is  a  separate  reward,  and  taking  them  all  to- 
gether, what  a  fulness  of  infinite  blessing  is 
comprised  in  this  sevenfold  recompense  !  To 
one  conqueror  there  is  promised  the  "  tree  of 
life."  To  another,  the  "  crown  of  life,"  and  de- 
liverance from  the  second  death.  To  another, 
"  the  hidden  manna,"  the  "  white  stone,"  and 
iii  it  the  new,  the  unknown  name.  To 
another,  power  over  the  nations,  the  iron  rod 
of  rule,  the  morning-star.  To  another,  the 
white  raiment  and  enrolment  in  the  book  of 


THE  ETERNAL  RESULTS.          177 

life.  To  another,  the  honor  of  being  made  a 
pillar  in  the  temple  of  God,  and  of  having 
written  on  him  the  name  of  God,  and  the 
name  of  His  city, — God's  own  new  name. 
To  another,  a  seat  upon  the  throne  of  Christ, 
joint  dominion  with  him  in  his  kingdoro/ 
joint  heirship  with  him  in  his  inheritance,  for 
"he  that  overcometh  shall  inherit  all  things." 
True,  this  recompense  is  only  "  to  him  that 
overcometh."  It  is  a  life-time's  battle, — a 
wrestling  not  only  with  flesh  and  blood,  but 
with  principalities  and  powers,  with  the  rulers 
of  the  darkness  of  this  world,  with  spiritual 
wickedness  in  high  places.  But  then,  however 
desperate  the  warfare,  it  is  not  forever.  Nay, 
it  is  brief,  very  brief.  Its  end  is  near,  very 
near.  And  with  the  end  come  triumph,  and 
honor,  and  songs  of  victory.  Then,  too,  there 
follows  peace,  and  the  return  of  the  war-worn 
soldier  to  his  quiet  dwelling. 

"Now  the  soft  peace-march  beats,  home,  brothers,  home." 

This  is  the  joy  of  the  saint.  He  has  fought 
a  good  fight,  he  has  finished  the  course,  he 
has  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there  is  laid 
up  for  him  the  crown  of  righteousness.  His 
battle  is  over,  and  then  for  him  there  are  rest 
and  home.  Home  !  Yes,  home.  And  what 
a  home  for  us  to  return  to  and  abide  in  forever  ! 
A  home  prepared  before  the  foundation  of  the 
world,  a  home  in  the  many  mansions,  a  home 


178  THE    ETERNAL    RESULTS, 

in  the  innermost  circle  of  creation,  nearest  the 
throne  and  heart  of  God,  a  home  whose  peace 
shall  never  be  broken  by  the  sound  of  war  or 
tempest,  whose  brightness  shall  never  be  over- 
cast by  the  remotest  shadow  of  a  cloud.  How 
solacing  to  the  weary  spirit  to  think  of  a  rest- 
ing-place so  near,  and  that  resting-place  our 
father's  house,  where  we  shall  hunger  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more,  where  the  sun  shall 
not  light  on  us,  nor  any  heat,  where  the  Lamb 
that  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  us, 
and  lead  us  to  living  fountains  of  waters,  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  our  eyes. 

The  time  is  at  hand.  The  church's  con- 
flicts are  almost  over.  Its  struggles  and  sor 
rows  are  nearly  done.  A  few  more  years,  and 
we  shall  either  be  laid  quietly  to  rest,  or  caught 
up  into  the  clouds  to  meet  our  coming  Lord. 
A  few  more  broken  bonds,  and  then  we  shall 
be  knit  together  in  eternal  brotherhood  with 
all  the  scattered  members  of  the  family.  A 
few  more  suns  shall  rise  and  set,  and  then 
shall  ascend  in  its  strength,  the  one  unsetting 
sun.  A  few  more  days  shall  dawn  and  darken  ; 
and  then  shall  shine  forth  the  one  unending 
day.  A  few  more  clouds  shall  gather  over  us, 
and  then  the  firmament  shall  be  cleared  for- 
ever. A  few  more  sabbaths  shall  come  round, 
filling  up  the  sum  of  our  privileges  and  com- 
pleting our  allotment  of  time ;  and  then  the 
everlasting  sabbath  shall  begin.  But  a  few 


THE    ETERNAL    RESULTS.  179 

brief  years,  and  we  shall  "  enter  in  through 
the  gates  into  the  city,"  sitting  down  beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  tree  of  life,  feeding  upon 
the  hidden  manna,  and  drinking  of  the  pure 
river  clear  as  crystal,  which  proceedeth  out 
of  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  But 
a  few  years  and  we  shall  see  his  face,  and  his 
name  shall  be  upon  our  foreheads. 

These  are  some  of  the  eternal  results ; 
results  which  are  mightily  heightened  and  en- 
hanced by  our  tribulation  here.  For  affliction 
not  only  profits  us  much  just  now,  but  it  will 
serve  us  much  in  eternity.  Then  we  shall 
discover  how  much  we  owe  to  it.  All  that  it 
is  doing  for  us,  we  know  not  now,  but  we  shall 
know  hereafter.  It  is  preparing  for  us  a 
"  more  abundant  entrance,"  a  weightier  crown, 
a  whiter  robe,  a  sweeter  rest,  a  home  made 
doubly  precious  by  a  long  exile  and  many 
sufferings  here  below. 

Of  these  results  we  have  only  the  foretaste 
now.  The  full  brightness  is  in  reserve,  and 
we  know  that  all  that  is  possible  or  conceiva- 
ble of  what  is  good  and  fair  and  blessed  shall 
one  day  be  real  and  visible.  Out  of  all  evil 
there  comes  the  good  ;  out  of  sin  comes  holi- 
ness ;  out  of  darkness,  light ;  out  of  death, 
life  eternal ;  out  of  weakness,  strength ;  out 
of  the  fading,  the  blooming ;  out  of  a 
quenched  planet,  a  sun  for  the  universe ;  out 
of  rottenness  and  ruin,  comeliness  and  ma- 


180          THE  ETERNAL  RESULTS. 

jesty ;  out  of  the  curse,  the  blessing ;  and 
RESURRECTION  shall  prove  the  wondrous 
truth,  that  if.  is  the  gravs, — the  place  of  bones 
and  dust, — that  is  the  womb  of  the  incor- 
ruptible, the  immortal,  the  glorious,  the  un- 
defiled. 

Our  present  portion,  however,  is  but  the 
earnest,  not  the  inheritance.  That  is  re- 
served for  the  appearing  of  the  Lord.  Here 
\ve  see  but  through  a  glass  darkly.  It  doth 
not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be.  We  are 
but  as  wayfaring  men,  wandering  in  the 
lonely  night,  who  see  dimly  upon  the  distant 
mountain-peak  the  reflection  of  a  sun  that 
never  rises  here,  but  which  shall  never  set  in 
the  "  new  heavens"  hereafter. 

And  this  is  enough.  It  comforts  and  cheers 
us  on  our  dark  and  rugged  way.  It  would 
not  be  enough  hereafter;  but  it  is  enough 
just  now.  The  wilderness  will  do  for  us  till 
we  cross  into  Canaan.  The  tent  will  do  till 
the  "  city  of  habitation"  comes.  The  joy  of 
believing  is  enough,  till  we  enter  on  the  joy 
of  seeing.  We  are  content  with  the  ':  moun- 
tain of  my/rh  and  ths  hill  of  frankincense," 
until  the  day  break  and  the  shadows  flee 
away."* 

*  Song  of  Solomon,  iv,  6,  7. 
THE    END. 


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